


Johnny's Rarely Seen Chivalry Instinct

by orphan_account



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is offered work by Arturo again, although this time the work requires him to be on the other side of the camera. His bills are all late, so he agrees, thinking it to be a one-off thing that no one he knows will find out about anyway. John, of course, immediately finds out about it and is unhappy. He then proceeds to confront Harry and isn't sure about what to do with the answers he gets. Obviously being super chivalrous and jealous is an appropriate response, though, so he goes with that. Harry has no idea why Johnny is upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know how well this fic is going to work, but I just wanted to try it. If it's no good, please tell me so, and I will endeavor to make it not awful.

                I was in my office and light streamed in through the window. I suppose I’d have found it rather nice, had it not caused an insufferable glare to appear on my computer screen. If you’ve not tried it before, please do know that it is damn near impossible to type any sort of coherent message when you cannot see the computer screen. I glared at it and the shades that Hendricks insisted on keeping opened because, ‘a brighter working environment has been proven to improve productivity’. I sighed and squinted at the screen in an attempt to get it to stop flashing at me and tell me what the hell I’d been typing for the last hour. It refused. I glared at the window again and Hendricks walked into my office slowly.

                His face was carefully blank, and I can admit I was a bit nervous. He doesn’t get that particular look unless he’s found out something that he absolutely does not want to inform me about. The last time he looked like this was when he told me that Raith had moved in with Harry. I turned away from my look to gaze at him. He appeared to be gathering himself.

                “There’s, uh, something you should probably see.” I raised my eyebrows because that told me absolutely nothing. There were many things that I should probably see.

                “And that something is, Mr. Hendricks? I’m rather busy this morning, and I’d rather not be distracted for longer than strictly necessary.” Something pained touched his expression for a moment, but he schooled it away quickly. It was moments like that that reminded me that I’d made the right decision when I chose him to be my right hand, all discussions of the proper lighting for an office aside.

                “I’ll bring my laptop in here. I don’t think you’ll want the guys knowing about it, especially not Rizzo.” I paused. Rizzo was one of my top guys, but he was notorious for having something of a crush on Mr. Dresden. Hell, he’d flirted with him quite obviously and obscenely during all of their encounters, although Harry had remained steadfastly oblivious to all of it, including the vulgar hand gestures, which truly did shock me a bit. Either way, the flirting was the reason why I did not allow him to perform any tasks that could result in him coming into contact with Harry despite being one of my most capable employees. Still, if there was something going on that Hendricks assumed I’d not want Rizzo to hear, it had to involve Harry. Yet it was on a laptop. What in the world could possibly be happening? I raised my eyebrows; my curiosity peaked, and nodded.

                “Go ahead, then.” He nodded, left for a moment, and then returned with his laptop on his arm. He and I moved to sit on the leather couch in the corner, and he opened up the lid. I was immediately faced with a frozen image of Harry Dresden; blindfold wrapped over his eyes, his body nude and stretched out across a bed covered in black sheets. He was also obviously hard, and a thick ring was wrapped around his dick. I realized suddenly that this was a video and glanced around the screen rapidly for a publisher, for some form of information on where this had come from, but I found none. “Mr. Hendricks,” I stated clearly, expecting some form of explanation.

                “I don’t know if it’s really him or not, boss; could be a random look alike, could be the video got doctored to make it look like him. I just know you wanted me to keep an eye on the guy who made this, and this was under ‘popular videos’ today.” I took a deep breath and nodded, calmed myself, did my damndest to look at the screen objectively. The title of the video was printed in luridly bright lettering above the video itself. Wizard in Bondage, it said. A nice vote of evidence that this was indeed meant to look like Harry had participated, even if the man himself wasn’t Harry.

                “Who produced this?”

                “Arturo Genosa,” he told me, “Remember? The guy who split from Silverlight a while ago? He got real big in the business about half a year ago. As far as I know, he isn’t connected to Harry in any way.” I nodded. I did indeed remember the man, as well as why I’d asked Hendricks to keep a check on him. Often people who split from large companies like Silverlight did it so that they could produce far more questionable content, which I was not prone to approving of. I almost prayed I could find something illegal about this video, so that I could have grounds to get it removed. I cared little whether or not the man on screen was Harry, he looked like him, and that was enough to bother me.

                “I suppose we should watch it, then; you know all the violations better than I do, so if you spot something, please do inform me.” Hendricks winced, obviously a bit uncomfortable at being involved in all this, and clicked the play button. The video started immediately, and I saw the man on the bed breathing. I looked closely, carefully at the screen, and noticed something once the angle changed.

                There was a scar on the man’s stomach, one that was obviously from a relatively deep wound, and one that did not heal as cleanly as it could have. I recognized that scar, recognized it from Harry’s stomach, and I was suddenly certain that someone had either put a veil over themselves to look like Harry, or this was Harry. A sudden fear over the willingness of the participants overcame me, but it fled rather quickly. The man (I still couldn’t bring myself to actually call him Harry) was simply lying there sedately, and from the way he shifted periodically, I knew he was awake. The sound of a door creaking open filled the dark room in the video, and the camera switched positions to focus on a tall, fit looking man with a mass of messy, wavy, brown hair entered the room with easy grace. I asked Hendricks if he knew who the man was.

                “It’s… shit, Jake Guffie, I think. I know he goes by the name Jack Rockhardt, in these things.” I nodded and steadfastly refused to consider just how much porn I’d been forcing Mr. Hendricks to watch for me.

                “Time to get up, doll,” the man growled, and the one on the bed twitched harder.

                “Jack,” he said, moaned, and I knew the voice. That man on the bed was Harry, and my blood ran cold. Hendricks appeared to be sharing the sentiment. Jake, Jack, whatever the hell his name really was, stomped quickly over to the bed, and a sharp backhand fell across Harry’s cheek. The audio equipment, obviously good despite all of the sound being quiet and far away, as if everything had been recorded at a distance, picked up a soft whimper falling from Harry’s bitten red lips.

                “What the hell did I tell you to call me, wizard?” Harry squirmed where he lay, and his lips wavered for a moment.

                “Sorry, Master, so sorry,” he whispered. Guffie’s thick hand ran down the middle of Harry’s thin chest, apparently as some sort of reward, and Harry shuddered.

                “Good boy. You’ve come a long way for me, you know that? Everyone said there was no way in the world I’d get you like this, my little wizard boy. They all said you were wild. But you ain’t too tough without those evil eyes of yours, are you? Especially not now that I’ve shown you everything I can do for you.” He ran his hand over the blindfold, and I saw it move slightly as Harry blinked behind it. Evil eyes. I’d heard that before, long ago, in some kind of folk tale. The evil eye was a form of witchcraft, as far as I knew, a type of curse also called the Mallochio, practiced by Stregas. My grandmother had always been interested in it, in those stories of our ancestors. Harry’s eyes were not evil, I knew that much, they were lovely; they were windows to the beauty within him, to his pure, wonderful soul.

                “Never use them on you, Master, you’re good to me. Only use them for you. Please, please, I want… let me, I want to come, please,” I heard him whine, and he didn’t sound like himself at all. Even if it was just in a situation like this, I’d never thought I’d see him conquered by anyone, by anything, and yet there he lay. He wasn’t fighting. I disliked it. Harry Dresden shouldn’t bow down to anyone, not him, never him.

                “Later,” Guffie mumbled. “For now, I want to play with you.” I saw the hand I’d like to cut off slide down his face, cup his cheek for a second, and then trail to his nipples. He teased there for a few moments, twisting and tweaking until all manner of lewd sounds came from Harry’s mouth, and I couldn’t tell whether or not he was acting, honestly. The hand moved farther down, traced nonsense paths in his stomach, and then reached his cock. He grabbed there and twisted in a way that I couldn’t imagine could’ve been pleasurable, but still Harry’s back arched like a taut bowstring. The bonds around his wrists and ankles had to be cutting into him. Guffie smirked, and I saw the spark of coldness in his eyes. I didn’t know if it was real or if it was fake as well, but it was obvious enough that I shook. I could do nothing but stare as Guffie slid down and undid Harry’s ankles only to lift them up high. “Put them up by your head, pet. Hurry up about it, too. I told you I wanted to play, and I sure as hell can’t do that if I can’t see.” Harry was quick to lever his legs up towards the headboard, but they were removed from the shot quickly enough. Instead, the focus shifted to a thick black dildo that had been slid inside it.

                I saw Guffie’s tan fingers grab at the base of it and tug softly. Harry gasped and I was sure that was actually real.

                “Master,” he hissed, before he clenched his lips closed. His face went tight, and Guffie gave the object another sharp tug. Harry gasped.

                “Damn. Had you right on the edge for a while, haven’t I?” He gave a single sharp jerk and the dildo slid mostly free, only to be slammed back inside him. Harry keened, high and wild and animal, and his hips jerked back down onto the thing. Guffie did it again, and again, too rough, too quick, and damn it, film or not, he should be treating him better, should be savoring this opportunity he was being given. I saw him palm himself through his pants, leather things that would likely be a bitch to take off on camera, with his free hand. He bent down to kiss and lick and bite the scar on Harry’s stomach and he twitched and wriggled, apparently unsure of whether to go towards the gentle, ticklish sensation or the insistent pleasure that was being forced through him. His head tilted back and a low, primal groan worked its way out of his lips. Guffie jerked the dildo free and tossed it across the room. “I’m done playing, damn it. This shit ain’t good enough. Give me more, pet.”

                “Whatever you want,” Harry mumbled. Guffie’s hand worked the zip and button of his pants free, but instead of removing them completely, he just bared his dick. I found it quite unimpressive.

                “That so, darling? Alright. You get me off, then you get to come, okay? So long as you’re good.”

                “I’ll be good,” Harry said, and I saw his stork legs, still mostly out of frame, widen some. Guffie fucked into him without thought, without care, without pause, and Harry’s scream mingled with his groan. Guffie’s blunted nails reached down towards Harry’s chest and scratched up thick welts before both of his hands dug into Harry’s hips with bruising force. I almost feared that he’d break the thin man as he gripped tightly and thrust in, careless for all but his own pleasure, and I knew that that was much of the purpose of this particular genre, but I cared little. Harry deserved far more than to be treated like nothing more than a fuck toy, an object for another’s pleasure. I could see it, when Guffie came, because his face went tense and twisted and he fucked in deep and stayed. He was sweating, some, and his hand was wild and groping when it reached down to undo the strap around Harry’s dick. His hand twisted and pulled a few times before Harry went tense again and came with a nearly silent scream. The video zoomed into his face, slack and relaxed with pleasure, and then faded to black. I was scrolling down towards the comments before I even knew what I was actually doing.

                “Boss, you might not want to do that,” Hendricks tried, but I ignored him. Over a thousand comments gazed back at me. I read the first few. I read them aloud, and Hendricks grew more flushed and flustered with each one.

                “I wish I could see videos of him getting trained. Bet he was wild,” I stated, reading directly from the first comment before I moved to the next. “Damn, Rockhardt gets all the best sluts.” The next, “I wouldn’t mind coming home to a pet like that every day.” I was about to move onto the next, but Hendricks stopped me.

                “Boss, I get the gist of it, and I can see that you’re really fucking upset, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it. Everything seemed clear; they’re both of age, and it appeared to be willing. I mean, unless the video was taken and posted without Dresden’s knowledge, there’s not much you can do about this particular video.” I glared at the wall, harsh and tired and annoyed.

                “Go get the car ready. Harry will be in his office right now. I believe I’d like to pay him a visit.” For a split second, Hendricks looked as if he would protest, as if he wanted to tell me just how bad of an idea that was, but it all faded quickly with his nod. He stood up and left my office, left his laptop with me, and I stared at the screen and felt disgusted and angry and jealous and countless other things that I’d never, ever admit to. I only closed the lid of the laptop when Hendricks returned and walked me outside to the car.

* * *

 

                The drive was fast, traffic oddly light, although it was rather early in the work day. I didn’t question it, merely sent a silent thank you to whatever had the roads so clear on this particular day. The drive, however, was also silent and tense, Hendricks nearly afraid of speaking to me just then and I myself far too annoyed, far too engrossed in how I’d pry the truth of what happened from Harry because he obviously wouldn’t be willing to tell me outright to hold a coherent conversation in the here and now. I felt tension wrap around my throat like a noose as I got up, entered the building, and took the stairs up to his office since I didn’t want to risk being trapped in the rickety, dangerous elevator. I even knocked on his office door politely even though I could’ve very easily just barged inside.

                I heard a chair scrape across the floor as he stood, and then a muffled exclamation of, ‘Hell’s Bells’ shortly after I heard him trip over something. Perhaps his body isn’t in the best shape after being used in such a way, my traitorous mind hissed as the door opened. He looked shocked when he saw me on the other side and didn’t even bother to hide it. Instead, he raised both of his eyebrows. He was wearing a shirt with long sleeves, strangely enough. I hadn’t even known he owned any. His jeans, for once, didn’t look pathetically worn and ragged, full of holes that were entirely not intentional. I wondered if it was because he was hiding bruises and scratch marks.

                “Uh. Hi there, Johnny. Something going on I haven’t heard about yet?” I shouldered passed him to come inside and sank down easily into the chair in front of his desk. He blinked, confused and looking entirely too much like a puppy. “Okay then. Come in, please, have a seat. My office is your office.” He shut the door and crossed the room in three strides before he sat back down himself. I saw case files scattered randomly over the desk, most of them closed but a few opened, and the sharp scribbles he attempted to pass off as handwriting looked out at me from them. He saw me looked and shut the files quickly, harshly. I offered what I hoped was a peaceable smile.

                “Harry, please, don’t be so distrustful of me. I promise you I’m not here in some misguided attempt to get details on cases I’d likely have no interest in anyway. Your day to day work is generally not what anyone would consider life-altering, is it?” He shrugged.

                “I’m pretty sure it is for the people who call me and complain that their little girl’s Barbie dolls are terrorizing their son with scissors and screaming about him giving shitty haircuts.” I stared. He snickered, seemed relaxed, easygoing, not at all like someone who’d recently ‘performed’ in that video I’d seen. His face was sharp as always, an edge of tense distrust to it that I was quite certain didn’t leave him often, but he was as calm as he ever was around me, from what I could tell. I saw none of his usual weapons on him, although there was a staff in the corner. It looked more decorative than anything, however, so I didn’t pay much attention to it. He answered the question I hadn’t actually asked, although I’d been thinking it quite strongly. “Screwing around with mortals is like daytime television for most things in the Nevernever. I get at least three or four calls like that every month.”

                “I must wonder, then, why you are always so in need of money.” He grinned.

                “I don’t charge for stuff like that. It takes me all of five minutes to dispel little possessions like that. I’d feel pretty heartless if I took people’s money for that, especially since most of the families that call me for stuff like that are just as bad off as me.” So there was a chance he’d been in that video for money, then. Still, I couldn’t imagine how it had come up as an option until I remembered Raith, his ‘roommate’. He was a member of the White Court, meaning he’d be a perfect actor for adult films due to his looks and his charm. He would certainly have connections with such people. But why would he send his boyfriend to do it instead of doing it himself? I thought, perhaps, that he could be getting some sort of thrill out of it, a sick pleasure at knowing that countless people would see that video and want Harry. Admittedly, I hadn’t been entirely unaffected myself, although my anger had mitigated much of the arousal. “Anyway, John, is there any particular reason why you decided today would be a good day to pay me a visit? I do have stuff to do, much as it doesn’t seem like it. Being a PI involves a lot of paperwork, you know? And I have a lot backed up, after that thing with the necromancers last month. Ooh, I know! You came to try and get a favor out of me for saving my ass in that alleyway!” I shook my head.

                “Certainly not. If I collected a favor for every time I’d ever saved your life, I’m sorry to say you’d have little left to give me by now.” Still, it opened interesting opportunities. If I were being honest, I’d have to admit that I hadn’t even known I had any right to a favor for saving him. He grinned, crooked and kind.

                “Well, if you’re sure. I can’t say I’d really mind striking your name out of the little black book of people to whom I owe stuff.” I wondered just how thick that book would be.

                “Oh, no, do keep my name written down. I’d like to save those little favors, you see, for when something important comes up. You’re a valuable ally, Harry, and one I’d like on my side if certain things ever come to full fruition. A favor would make it quite certain that you’d not be able to refuse if I ever truly needed your aid. Still, that is not what I came here to discuss.”

                “Don’t call me Harry,” he said, by rote, although he’d been calling me by my name ever since I arrived in his office, “Anyway, what is it you want, then? I’m pretty sure I already asked, but you’re good at giving non-answers, so I’ll ask again.” I took a deep breath, swallowed harshly, carefully, but surreptitiously so he couldn’t see just how bothered I was by bringing this up.

                “Well, Mr. Dresden, Mr. Hendricks was recently reviewing a particular website for me, one owned by a man named Arturo Genosa.” A flash of recognition flitted across his face, tangled with bare, stark horror. He knew that I knew. He knew that I’d seen. That frightened him, although I didn’t know why. “I see you recognize the name; I assume that also means you know what I wish to discuss.” He took a deep breath and released it in a sigh.

                “I really didn’t think anyone I knew would see that damned thing, especially not you.” He paused to sigh again, “Look, you said yourself just a few seconds ago that I’m usually short on cash. With Thomas living with me too, it’s gotten a little tighter than usual. Arturo and I know one another, and he told me a while back, after I worked a case for him, that if I ever needed work, he’d have it for me. I didn’t think that was what he meant, but like I said, I needed the money and he offered enough to get most of my more immediate debts paid off, and to keep Mouse and Mister in Kibble and Coke for a while, so I did it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and I see literally no reason why it should be of any interest to you. If you were worried that it wasn’t consensual, I promise, it was. I agreed to everything that happened, and Arturo told me that if anything I wasn’t comfortable with started happening, I could back out.” I stared at him, cold and likely more upset than I had any right to be.

                “Money. You gave your body to a company for money. I really must ask, Harry, am I truly such a horrible option when compared to that?” I hissed, and yes, perhaps that was one of the reasons why I was so upset. Harry had done that over coming to me even though I’d made it quite clear that I’d take him, that I’d have him work for me. I was obviously more distasteful than adult films, to him. That confused me, after his seemingly prudish nature. He snickered.

                “Arturo just wanted my body, Johnny; you want my soul. Besides, I know Jake from that case I mentioned. Jakes the guy I was with, by the way. I mean, hell, it wasn’t like I took a complete stranger up my ass or anything. Jake and I are actually pretty okay friends. Besides, Arturo probably paid me more than you would anyhow, and that video doesn’t come with the added stigma of, oh, I don’t know, getting money from a known criminal. Hell’s Bells, Marcone, you know that I may as well hand in my license the second someone thinks I’ve got any ties to you.” I snarled. I felt myself getting even more upset. I knew, somehow, that I was overreacting horribly. I raised my chin, tensed my lips.

                “How much?” He blinked. I repeated myself. “How. Much.” I enunciated clearly, the words coming with an added growl. Harry had the gall to laugh.

                “This is really pissing you off, isn’t it?”

                “Yes,” I told him, and his expression made it obvious that I’d thrown him a curveball. “I am pissed. I am pissed, livid, angry, annoyed, bothered, and whatever the hell other word you would like to use. I realize that this shocks you, Harry, but I am, in fact, a human being capable of becoming upset. Now tell me how much you were paid.” He stared, mouth slack, and the number fell off his tongue thoughtlessly.

                “Five grand,” he mumbled, his eyes wide and far too innocent, sweet, open, without the hard layer of ice they developed when he was working a case. Things had relaxed for a while, and he’d relaxed a bit with them. “But it was an advance payment for two videos. He said he might negotiate for more depending on how popular they were.” I kept my gaze steady and clear, blank, empty.

                “I’ll write you a check for ten immediately if you call that man and cancel whatever contract you’ve made with him.” He rolled his eyes.

                “John. Stars and Stones, man, I really don’t know what the hell about this is upsetting you so much, but whatever it is, you need to cool it. Arturo is my friend. When a friend is in need, it’s a pretty common practice to offer said friend some kind of work. That’s all that’s happened here, okay? My friend gave me a job, and I did that job so I could earn the money he threw at me.” My fists clenched some and I stood, slammed them against his desk. It creaked at me angrily, and he stared up at me indignantly. It was an odd feeling, having him have to look up to see me.

                “That is in no way what has happened. You gave up something important, Harry, for five thousand dollars.” He choked, coughed, and it turned into a sharp laugh. I heard him whispering something to himself, but I couldn’t make out the words until he repeated them more loudly.

                “You think I lost something from that? What the hell, Johnny? Do I look like some blushing virgin? Hell’s Bells, I did a BDSM tape,” he cackled, and I felt myself grow cold.

                “What?” He gave me that crooked smile again, impish and bright across his angular face.

                “Even before Jake fucked me I was not a virgin mentally, physically, or otherwise. I was a little more… open minded, I guess, when I first came to Chicago, because I didn’t exactly have a plethora of opportunities to experiment while I was holed up on a farm in middle-of-nowhere Missouri. Once I came here, I might’ve gone just a tiny bit wild because I was a stupid eighteen-year-old who had absolutely no idea about how important sex is. I think I used the ‘if I remove all of my virginities then dragons won’t be a risk’ excuse, back then. Still, after one of my partners nearly magic-ed me to death after I passed out on their bed, I settled down and remembered that oh, hey, bodily fluids are really fucking dangerous, and sex causes a whole lot of super deadly energies and aura transfers and whatnot. Still, if you thought I was like, selling my virginity out to the highest bidder, I wasn’t. I say again that I wasn’t even expecting to be doing that when I went down to Arturo’s building.” I clenched my teeth. I’d always thought… I hadn’t expected such a thing from him, I supposed, and yet perhaps I should have. He had been human then, just as he was human now, and a desire to see the world, see its pleasures, was rather common. I wondered why I’d placed him on such a pedestal. Still, it seemed he was revealing things about himself, about his past, that he wouldn’t otherwise reveal. I’d had no idea that he’d ever lived on a farm, much less one in Missouri. I supposed it had something to do with the two years of his life wherein he fell entirely off the face of the earth. I took a deep breath to settle my nerves before I spoke, but his phone rang and jolted me from my concentration. He was quick to pick it up.

                “Harry. This is quite rude,” I told him, and he revealed to me a very particular finger in the middle of his hand.

                “Hell’s Bells, I don’t know. No, I’m not working anything right now. Yeah, but I might get a call, and I kind of like doing my actual job. I know, Thomas, but we’re paid up for the next month, and Mrs. S isn’t going to kick me out for missing one month. I mean, she’s let me stay a year without rent before; of course, I think Michael was slipping her money behind my back but still. She likes me. I know. Fine, damn it. Call him, I’ll be there in an hour, if traffic’s not murder, but it won’t be longer than two. No, wait, two and a half. I’ll probably need to stop by the apartment and grab that bag with my stuff in it.” I heard Mr. Raith babble on about something that was likely pointless on the other end of the line for some time after that, Harry grunting and nodding along with it all. I had the sneaking suspicion that I knew what the call had been about. I thought he might’ve flinched when he hung up the phone and looked at me.

                “I will be going with you.” He shrugged.

                “Whatever, Marcone. I already know you’ll just follow me if I say no, so whatever. Come on.” He stood up and stretched, popped his spine, grabbed his coat, and left. I followed along after him, even climbed into his deathtrap of a car with him instead of using my own. He threatened me with purple skin if I followed him into his apartment, however, so I remained there until he came back with a black duffel bag. We then drove off to a relatively nondescript building and I followed him inside.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                I have no idea what’s wrong with Marcone. I do not want to have an idea of what’s wrong with Marcone. I’d really just like it if Marcone accomplished whatever he was here to accomplish (I assumed it had something to do with defending my honor for some ridiculous reason I couldn’t even think of to name) and then left. I, for some reason, had no particular desire to watch him watch me participate in very uncomfortable sex scenes that required way too much time to position all of me correctly so the camera that had to be set up all the way across the room could get whatever shot it wanted to get. You really do not know how uncomfortable the actors on an adult film set are constantly. It might look all erotic and whatever else, but it actually isn’t in any way, shape, or form. It’s actually one of the most awkward things I’ve ever done. Also, I’d never been so grateful for a blindfold in my life. Jake’s nice and all, and good to look at, but holy hell, hearing an easy-going guy like him talk like he had was really weird, and I was pretty sure my eyes would’ve told the entire world that I was in no way taking any of that seriously. Anyway.

                Marcone and I went into Arturo’s building, and the man himself greeted me with a hard bear hug. I was pretty sure he could squish me if he wanted; he’s stronger than he looks, and he looks pretty fit. Marcone was staring at us.

                “Hiya Arturo,” I told him, and he laughed.

                “Harry, my friend! So good to see you! I suppose Thomas got through to you?” I shrugged.

                “Yeah, I guess my office phone line got fixed when I wasn’t looking. Everything still been okay on set? And with you and Joan?” He laughed, loud and free, and I was reminded suddenly that I’d helped him get that laugh back. It was people like this, people who lived and people who moved on, that reminded me of the good that I’d managed to do in this world. I felt my own smile soften into little more than a tiny curve of my lips.

                “No, Harry, nothing has changed in the past week since I last saw you. My money was enough?”

                “More than,” I said, “Thank you.”

                “No, no, Harry, thank you. That video is currently the most popular on the site where it was posted. There have been countless who have asked for more! You will be making me quite a lot of money, Harry. As I said, I am perfectly willing to give you more, now, however much you’d like.” I didn’t even know how much a service like this was worth. I was about to open my mouth and tell him so when Marcone moved to stand in front of me, almost protectively. It might’ve felt more protective if his head didn’t stop at the hollow of my throat.

                “I am afraid he will have to respectfully decline, Mr. Genosa.” Arturo looked surprised, and maybe even scared, although he would probably never admit to that. He was way too… I don’t know, tough for that. He liked putting on a brave face, and there wasn’t much that could make that brave face disappear. Apparently Marcone was one of the things that could.  Still, it only lasted a couple of seconds before he had that bright smile spreading across his face again.

                “Mr. Marcone! I didn’t see you there, what a surprise this is!” Marcone put on his father’s smile, his business smile, tight and calm and easy. I think maybe my life would’ve been a lot easier if I could just smile like that. I’m pretty sure he could make, like, anyone but me and probably Murphy be totally on board with whatever he was saying with that smile. Hell, he probably has done something like that before, the bastard. Still. I don’t exactly like getting in his way because he’s a good ally, and, if you make me say it, sort of an okay friend-like thing. I still rolled my eyes, though, because the dumbass was trying to take over my business deals.

                I mean, it wasn’t like this was the best job I’d ever had, far from it, but it paid well and I knew that Arturo would keep it all safe for me. It was uncomfortable and it went against literally everything I’d attempted to tell myself for years, stabbed all the morals I’d picked up directly in the chest a million times and then threw them in a ditch. I didn’t mind people who performed in movies like this, I was pretty sure I’d shown that when I worked with them, but I wasn’t one of them. No matter how I’d played it off to Marcone, it made me uncomfortable and a little nervous and a little a whole lot of other twitchy, frightened emotions, but hey, even if this wasn’t the best job, it wasn’t the worst either. I still had no idea what misguided chivalry was making Marcone act the way he was, though, as if me doing this was some sort of affront to everything he held dear in life. Maybe he just didn’t want his number one rival to be a porn star.

                “I suppose so. Mr. Dresden and I, however, know one another quite well. It’s not really such a shock that I’d come here to stop him from doing something idiotic.” It was at this point that Jake sauntered in, and yeah, sauntered is the perfect word to describe what he was doing. He’d always been confident, but that confidence had increased a little after it became a sure thing that Silverlight wouldn’t blacklist him, that Arturo wouldn’t go under. Plus he actually had started that feng shui business, and it was going well too. Even still, he was a good guy, a nice guy, comfortable and easy and down to earth. He smiled when he saw me and slapped me on the back hard. I was almost certain that I’d bruise because damn it, he’s a big guy who exercises. I am a skinny guy who just knows how to fight in a relatively dirty fashion.

                “Harry, hey man! How’s it going?” I shrugged and granted him an easy smile since there was a lot he didn’t know, still. He was growing to understand the basics of magic, meaning he knew I could do it, but not much else. I was allowed to be easy with him, to be normal, to be purely and plainly human. I took gifts like that where they came. I felt Marcone’s hand circle my bicep tightly, his nails blunt and squared, yet still somewhat sharp. I ignored it.

                “Same as last week, except now I don’t have a bill collector trailing along behind me. I felt sort of empty, though, so I picked this mobster up on the street corner. Makes me feel at ease to have someone breathing down my neck 24/7.” Jake laughed.

                “You his boyfriend or something?” Everything froze. I felt my entire brain short circuit. Johnny Marcone. My boyfriend. What the hell fucked up world was Jake living in? And what drugs did they sell there? Arturo’s eyes widened.

                “Oh! Harry, if you had a… significant other who would have been upset by your movie, you should have told me! I’d have had you on the camera crew again!” I sighed.

                “He’s not my boyfriend. I do not have a boyfriend. I am not gay. I am pretty much the definition of a Kinsey two. And even if I wasn’t, I would not date a notorious mob boss.” Marcone was staring at me. I had no idea why.

                “You don’t have a boyfriend? What about Mr. Raith?” He sounded genuinely confused and I wondered just how far that rumor had spread. I scratched my head. Arturo snickered and laughed.

                “Thomas? Thomas would never, with a man. I have known him and his family for some time, you understand, and his elder sister worked for me for quite a while.” I nodded.

                “Yup, Thomas brings women home all the time, considering he has now managed to make hundreds of joggers that were previously nonexistent appear in my neighborhood. They’re also not at all neat joggers, or they just do what he does, because my house is never not a mess when I go home. Bastard.” I started talking more to myself than anyone else there at the end, but no one pointed it out. I assumed they all knew me well enough to understand that I was a little bit insane on the best of days. Marcone cleared his throat.

                “Alright then. Well. Come, Harry, I’ll take you home. Mr. Genosa, I assure you that I have no problem paying you back for any losses you might incur from this, so long as you agree to remove that video and accost Mr. Dresden no further.” I sighed.

                “Ignore him, please. I brought my bag with me, what do you need me to do?” Arturo appeared to have no idea which one of us to listen to, and honestly seemed to be leading towards following the instructions of the super scary mob boss who probably had a gun. Of course. Why can’t I be threatening sometimes? “Damn it, Marcone, will you stop gazing menacingly at my friends? Nothing will happen that I am against. I trust both of these men. I will be perfectly fine, and whatever misguided whatever is causing you to do this can be safely ignored. Therefore, bye-bye Johnny.”

                “I would prefer not.” I blinked at him. He just kept staring at me. I turned around, grabbed my duffel bag, and walked off towards the back room. On my way, I yelled back to ask what I was supposed to be doing. Jake told me to find a gag, and put my blindfold on, and that there should be clothes for me on the bed in the back. I did so, and then walked back into the front room again. The clothes that had been on the bed were tight and tattered, a little like some stuff the Alphas had attempted to throw on me once or twice. Loose threads tickled my skin, and I twitched as I walked, thankful for my super-special see-through blindfold. Marcone looked very close to attempting to kill somebody when I got back in there, but then he saw me and he just sort of went slack and gaped at me. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, suddenly contemplating running off somewhere and hiding. It was weird, having his gaze, bright animal green, so intently on me. I wondered if he was ashamed or something because he didn’t exactly look right. Jake came over and hip checked me as he went to change himself. I stumbled and bit at the gag, which I figured would be happening a lot. I raised my hand to tug it out for a second and raised my currently invisible eyebrows at Marcone.

                “Take a picture, Johnny; it might actually come out correctly.” He shook his head.

                “No, thank you for the offer. Mr. Genosa, I can’t say I approve of this.” I heaved a heavy sigh.

                “You don’t have to approve of it. I don’t even know why you don’t; you run adult film companies too, you know it’s pretty safe.”

                “Must you have that blindfold on?” Well. That was weird. I shrugged.

                “It’s either wear this to keep me from looking directly into Jake’s eyes or get myself caught in a Soul Gaze with him, which I’d rather avoid, if at all possible. You’ve seen my soul; I think you can probably guess why.” He smiled, a real life genuine smile and Stones, what the hell was wrong with him?

                “I’d look at it every day if I could. Now, Harry, I’ll tell you again: whatever you want, I’ll give it. I don’t care about how much you want, just stop this stupidity.” I ignored him, and Jake came back in. We went to the back room, the one with cameras set up a sufficient distance away, and Jake was carrying ropes. He pushed at my shoulder to get me down on my knees. I noticed that Marcone had followed us. I closed my eyes behind the blindfold. Why the hell was he going to… oh, Hell’s Bells, this would be uncomfortable. More so than before. I didn’t want him to see this, to see me like this, and I didn’t even know why. I just… I wished he’d leave. I wished. I knew that I’d be better off if I did this, but I didn’t… people who knew me weren’t supposed to see. It felt especially bad, now that it was Marcone. I felt his eyes burrowing into my spine. I kept breathing, deep, steady, and loose. I kept my eyes closed. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t. It was just me and Arturo and Jake, like before. I could do this because he was not there. He wasn’t. I promise, shut up.

* * *

 

                The ropes wrapped around my wrists expertly, but not tightly enough that I’d have a problem with it. They’d learned that the first time, after I’d freaked out a little. Flashbacks can be a dick, and there haven’t been many occasions in my life where me being tied tightly resulted in something good happening to me. Jake patted my back as he finished, and then I felt fingers around my ankles, my bare feet. I jerked.

                “No,” I said, “I don’t want my ankles tied together.” The fingers moved away.

                “Sure thing, Harry,” Jake told me warmly, “Most of the requests were for your ‘training’, so act naturally instead of whatever you were doing last time. We can add in something around your ankles during editing, I think, right Arturo?”

                “Certainly.” I nodded.

                “Thanks, man.” He shrugged, and I noticed he was holding the gag I’d taken out earlier to talk. He tucked it into his back pocket. I hadn’t even noticed that it was gone from around my neck.

                “It’s not a problem. Being tied is weird, I know. Don’t worry about it. Cuffs are still a no-go for you, right? And knives?” I nodded.

                “Yeah. Whatever else is fine, just, nothing ritual.” Jake nodded and gestured for me to go crouch by the bed. I did so, and the camera started rolling. Jake grabbed my hair, and the scene started. I let my eyes close again, but I bared my teeth in a snarl, snapped at his hand whenever it came close to my mouth.

                “My little wild wizard. I always like little things like you, little things to be broken. Pretty thing, aren’t you?” His thumb brushed over my cheek, and I jerked my head wildly to dislodge the touch. His hand tightened in my hair. “Be good, honey. They say you can’t be trained, but I think we’ll manage it together, wizard. You’ll be such a nice little toy, then, my best pet.” I growled.

                “Go fuck yourself.” He laughed at me, and I shuddered. It wasn’t entirely faked. This was… it… I wondered if I’d be able to take it. Faking being under somebody’s control was one thing, but this… faking being myself in danger, weak… it touched at something else, something buried deep within me that I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to touch. His hand moved to grip my jaw and he forced it open, stuck a few fingers in my mouth. I grazed them with my teeth, but he jerked away as if I’d bitten him as hard as I could have. He slapped me like real actors do, in that way that makes the sound but doesn’t hurt.

                “Bitch.” He took me by the shoulders and forced me down, and I writhed and jerked in his grip. I still wasn’t sure I was faking all of it. He was heavy. His nails grazed my skin. I kept trying to bite him. “I’m trying to be good to you, honey. I’m trying real fucking hard to play nice. If you won’t fucking help me, I can’t do it.” I laughed, bitter and harsh and maybe insane, maybe mad.

                “Uncover my eyes, _master,_ and I’ll show you just how nice I can be.” He bent down and stage whispered in my ear, loud yet soft.

                “I’m not a goddamned idiot, wizard. I know what those eyes of yours can do.” My tied wrists were going to sleep under my back. I felt something feathery brushing over my chest, something light, and then unfamiliar callused hands had me and were pulling me free. For the next five or ten minutes, everything was a blur of yelling and I’m pretty sure that John Marcone kidnapped me off a porn set. I wondered what sort of alternate dimension I’d fallen into that made those particular words necessary. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is primarily a set up chapter, so sorry if it's a little dull. As always, tell me if it's awful, since I'm more or less experimenting with this one.

                Marcone ran outside with me over his shoulder (yeah, I don’t understand the physics behind that either, I just know there was a hand around my waist and all the blood rushed to my head relatively quickly) and then proceeded to throw me into the passenger seat of my own car. I’m pretty sure he hotwired it and drove off, after that, even though I hadn’t even thought my car was capable of being hotwired. I’d always figured it’d electrocute anyone who tried, considering the fact that most of the wires were loose and occasionally brushed against my feet while I drove. Shut up, my car tries and everyone should respect that. I sighed as we whipped out of the parking lot and hit the highway. He didn’t talk, so I decided to do it for him.

                “Johnny. Should I even ask for an explanation, or should it just be assumed that you’ve finally gone totally insane? Also, there’s a slight chance that someone might find it pertinent to call the cops on you for driving around with a blindfolded and bound man in your passenger seat, and I really have no problem telling the nice policemen that you kidnapped me.” I vaguely saw his smirk out of the corner of my eye, but in the dimmer light of the car, it was a lot harder to see through the blindfold.

                “There’s no one in this city that doesn’t know my face and my name, Harry. No one is calling anyone.” I flinched a little, but it was high on my face, only affected the parts of my cheeks covered with the dark fabric. Marcone was probably right, if I was being honest, but there was still a chance, I knew, and even if there wasn’t, I could get away if I wanted, could burn through the ropes in a second and haul ass out of the car. He wouldn’t be able to stop me. Still. There’s a certain instinctual fear that lives in people, somewhere deep and unknowable, a fear that Marcone was making me feel now. I’d never been scared of him before, I realized with a sudden shock. He’d been intimidating, but sort of in that way a big dog is, when you see it just wandering around. You know it _could_ hurt you, but you also know it probably _won’t._ Now I wasn’t so sure about that. I still knew he could probably injure me, or at least make my life really suck, but I’d lost the assurance that he wouldn’t. I didn’t even know what I’d done to piss him off, and I think that might’ve been the worst part. I wriggled my hands around.

                “Think you could at least pull over and untie me, Marcone?” He laughed, and I couldn’t help but think it sounded kind of bitter.

                “I am not an idiot, Harry. As if I don’t think you’d just run away.” I shrugged.

                “My ankles aren’t tied, remember? I could run away now, if I wanted.”

                “Your wrists are tied; you can’t open the door.”

                “Wizard, Johnny. If I felt a need, I could just burn through these ropes and leave. That’s why I insisted on ropes instead of cuffs. I can burn through a set of cuffs eventually, but it takes forever, and I usually end up burning myself in the process, which I’m actively against. Anyway. If I wanted to leave, I could. I just don’t want to risk setting my car, which you just stole, by the way, on fire if I don’t have to. I like this car.”

                “Go, then, but I’m not going to pull over and make it easier for you.” I sighed. Of course he was going to be a dick about it, and I hadn’t even been planning on turning tail if he’d just pulled over and taken the damned ropes off! My fucking wrists and hands and parts of my arms were going to sleep, and it was annoying. I sighed and leaned forward, called a few sparks to my fingertips, kept the burn careful and controlled. He saw what I was doing and gritted his teeth harshly. The tattered remains of the ropes fell to the seat behind me and I leaned back again, stretched and flexed my wrists, pulled the blindfold off, and put my seatbelt on. He blinked at me. I snickered.

                “You’re kidnapping me, Johnny; if I go out because of this, I’d rather it not be because you crashed my car and I didn’t have a seatbelt on. Also, it’s harder to see through that thing when the lights are dim, and my arms were going to sleep. If they’d been tied in front of me, I’d have been fine.” He offered a thin, tight smile.

                “You really can’t expect the people who kidnap you to go out of their way to make you comfortable, can you?” I snorted.

                “It’d be a nice change of pace.” He didn’t bother talking after that, so neither did I. I wondered why I was feeling so nonchalant about this, why the fact that I’d gotten kidnapped wasn’t bothering me like it should’ve been, but I guessed I was just a little out of it that day or something. He drove and drove, and we’d long gotten away from any area I recognized when we stopped. I wondered if he’d done that on purpose, taken me far from any place I knew, and then decided I was just being ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly know what areas I knew and which ones I didn’t. I figured from the apartment building in front of me, a common one that wasn’t nice and wasn’t terrible, that he’d just taken me somewhere convenient. He got out of the car then came around to my door, opened it, and grabbed me by the wrist before he walked me upstairs. “I could scream, you know. There are other people here.” He nodded.

                “You could, but I’d really rather you didn’t. I’m only trying to help you.”

                “By kidnapping me and driving me off to god knows where. Arturo’s going to be worried as hell, and so is Jake, for that matter. I don’t think this is something that happens there often.” He shrugged and brought me upstairs to one of the unassuming apartments, unlocked it with a key off the ring in his pocket, then led me inside. He locked the door behind him and slid the key back into his pocket. I rolled my eyes; I could probably pick it off of him if I wanted, or just blow the door down, or just knock him out. I knew he knew that, too, but he didn’t really seem to care. Bastard was sure of himself, I’d give him that much, and I knew why he knew that I probably wouldn’t do at least two of those things: he’d know that I’d be unwilling to damage property that wasn’t mine or his, and that I probably wouldn’t hurt him for fear of accidentally killing him. As for the first option, I figured he didn’t know that I could pick pockets. Most people didn’t. You learn a lot in orphanages, when people are perfectly willing to stuff your property in their pockets because they just really, really want to say that something belongs to them. I’d lost some pictures, that way, along with a marble my dad had given to me and his favorite deck of cards. I’d managed to get one of the pictures and the cards back, but everything else had gotten lost in the ether. I shook my head to rid myself of the memory, since it was unimportant at the moment. Marcone shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over a chair. Beyond that one rumpled article of clothing I’d have been hard pressed to say someone lived here.

                It was all clean, with no pictures, and the furniture was all dull and unused. I’d never been in a place like this before, honestly. My apartment had looked more natural than this before I even moved in, but my apartment has a history to it. This place had probably been built on a budget for people on budgets. I stood awkwardly and shifted on my feet, eyeing the door.

                “Sit,” Marcone told me, before he went into the kitchen. He came back with a cup of coffee and a glass of coke. I blinked, but he just rolled his eyes. “It’s not drugged. I’ll take a sip myself, if you’d like.” I shook my head and took the cool glass from him, sat on the couch with it and pulled my knees up to my chest as best I could in the tight clothes.

                “Nah. If you wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t be so indirect about it.” I took a sip and allowed my eyes to close. I felt it when he sat beside me because the couch shifted.

                “There are things that can be put into a drink besides poison, you know, and I’d have access to a majority of him. That was quite stupid of you.”

                “Not really. I don’t think you have any reason to want me knocked out, do you? And if you did you could do it physically quicker, so long as you did it before I could find out what you were doing, and you probably could. You move quick. I mean, yeah, I’d be able to kick your ass as soon as I woke up, but still.” He smiled.

                “If that were possible, wouldn’t I just shoot you instead of knocking you out?”

                “Nah, you wouldn’t risk me having time to cast my death curse before I died. If you shot me while I was awake, you’d do it long range. And before you ask, knives carry the same risk, and I’m wiggly enough that it’d take you forever to hit anything major.” And wasn’t this strange? I was just sitting around discussing how he’d best go about killing me. It was kind of weird. He nodded.

                “True enough. So if I were to kill you now, I’d knock you out physically and kill you while you were unconscious?”

                “Probably, and that’s good enough for me. I don’t really think you brought me here to kill me anyway, though. Too much risk of me retaliating. You’d want me weaker, and I’m at full power, right now. Which reminds me, you should probably say goodbye to your refrigerator in there, and give your condolences to its family. Also, if I had to guess, that TV doesn’t work anymore, and your light bulbs have about an hour, two at most, if they’re older.”

                “It’s lucky we won’t be here more than an hour then, isn’t it? I merely brought you here in order to wait for a car to be brought to me.” Oh. Uh. I should probably run before that happens. I realized that in a sudden shock, realized that I’d just been kidnapped and taken to an area of town I didn’t recognize, all of this performed by a notorious mob boss, and I wasn’t running. I had no idea what the hell was wrong with me, and I shook my head as I lurched up to my feet and attempted to go. He took me by the arm and spun me around in a practiced, easy move I’d seen Murphy pull a time or two before.

                “Let me go, Johnny. I would very much enjoy absconding at the moment.” He smiled, and if I were a little drunk or something I might’ve mistaken the look for kind.

                “Absconding? Come now, Harry, you’ve had your chance to run off, many of them, in fact. Why don’t you just sit down, hm? You’ve said yourself you don’t think I want to hurt you.” I tensed up and jerked hard in an effort to break free, but his grip was iron tight. I gathered a tiny bit of force in the palm of my free hand, nonlethal, hardly enough to make him fall on his ass, but hopefully enough to make him drop the grip if it came to that. I realized that I still didn’t have the key, but hey, maybe I could get it off of him when he was on his ass and gathering himself.

                “Yeah, well, I’ve been wrong a hell of a lot of times before. I don’t particularly want to get proven wrong with you because I really can’t help but feel like me being careless with you is what’s going to get me really dead.” He bared his teeth and shoved me hard against the couch, all using just my momentum when he let me go. I never really thought about him fighting, but I was realizing fast that maybe I should’ve figured he could. I’ve said before that he’s in good health for his age, tight muscle built for function and grace, but this was the first time I’d ever seen it in action. He was a man that could kill, and he was a man that had gotten it down to an art. I coughed as the breath fled my lungs and the force in my palm dispersed.

                “If you die under my watch, Harry, I promise that whoever did you in will soon cease breathing as well. I’d also rather you not be so damned scared of me when I only want what’s best for you.” I bared my teeth and hacked out a laugh.

                “Fuck you, Johnny-boy. I can look after my damn self, and if I die, it’ll probably be because I did something to piss someone better than me off; meaning chances are I’ll deserve it. I don’t think I’ll need avenging. Finally, you are a scumbag criminal who has been calling me an idiot all damned day for consorting with my friends. I would’ve figured you’d appreciate some wariness towards you on my part.” Admittedly, I was sort of trying to annoy him, to seek out new buttons of his that I hadn’t known existed and hit them for all I was worth. I always do that when my back is against a wall because hey, it gives everyone involved the illusion that I know more than I do, that I have the upper hand when all I can do is bluff. He growled, low and rumbling and tiger. Maybe I was making him open up that dark patch in his soul. He took in a deep breath, dug his hands into my shoulders, pressed me back against the couch, pinned my legs and my hips with his own, a fighter, a professional down to his barest instincts.

                “I think you’ve proven that you are most certainly not capable of looking after yourself multiple times, many of them within the past six months. You have allowed a White Court vampire into your home and good graces and possibly your bed, you have sold your body to a man you have no reason to trust beyond the fact that you worked for him once upon a time, you… Christ, Harry, you… can you not allow me to do anything easily?” There was something pained in his face. It was surprisingly hard for me to ignore it, but I did.

                “I can let whoever the hell I want in my house and I can do whatever the hell I want with my body. There’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” He smiled at me again, but this time it was stiff and unnerving, a predator smile.

                “I’m afraid you’re wrong about that.” I was about to reply when the door, obviously heavily involved in the dramatic tension, swung open and Gard, Marcone’s brand spanking new pet wizard death foreteller immortal extraordinaire, swept inside. She was still how I remembered her, tall and blonde and strong looking, with solid features that lacked traditional, delicate beauty, but were yet beautiful for their strangeness, their power. Her blue eyes were ice chips when they took us in.

                “Your car, Mr. Marcone. Would you like a way to keep him more… I suppose sedate would be a proper term?” I tensed. Marcone seemed to notice, and when he asked his next question, it was with great unwillingness.

                “What would you suggest using?” I bucked and twisted in his grasp, started reforming the force in my hands, but nervous as I was, it was hard to get it precise and small, like I needed. Despite everything, I still didn’t want to kill the bastard. She reached into the thick canvas messenger back that she had slung over her shoulder and removed something silver and glinting that made me double in my struggles. Thorn Manacles, of course she had them, of course, of course, of course. Hell’s Bells, they weren’t putting those on me, no way. I finally got what I hoped was a good amount in my hand and forced it at him. He stumbled off of me and I reeled up to my feet, started running, ready to knock Gard out of the way so I could go, but she caught me with fluid ease.

                “Stones, you’re not putting those on me. I’m not wearing them. I won’t.” My voice was a little high pitched, but that is most certainly only because it was so deep that it had to be heard like that to protect mortal ears. Gard is only an obvious immortal if it suits me, by the way, so if you ask her, and she says I sounded like a little girl, that’s only because at that particular moment she was a mortal. I felt Marcone touch my arm gently.

                “Harry, they’re just handcuffs,” he mumbled, and when I twisted to look at him, I saw something like concern in his eyes. “They’d just be a precaution; you said yourself you can burn through handcuffs.” I shook my head rapidly.

                “Those aren’t vanilla cuffs.” He turned to Gard for clarification, and she nodded.

                “He is speaking truthfully. These are called Thorn Manacles. They simply block mortal wizards from accessing and using their magic.” I hissed.

                “Don’t sound so damn nonchalant about that, Stones. They hurt, I don’t like them. I won’t put them on, okay? I won’t. I’ll… look; I’ll go with you, yeah? Hear you out about whatever you want to say. Just, don’t. Get rid of those; don’t flash them at me again. They’re really illegal anyway, so I don’t even know why you’re allowed to have them, but whatever, I guess. Immortals get all the fancy privileges.” Gard offered a thin smile and tucked the things back into her bag.

                “I have quite a few ties with your Council, Mr. Dresden. There is much that I am allowed to do.” I snorted.

                “Favoritism sucks.” Marcone looked really calculating all of a sudden, and he took me by my arm again to lead me outside, down to a black sedan. He opened the door and helped me into the backseat, then climbed in beside me. Gard got in the front and drove off with us. I tried to open the door, but apparently it was child locked. Go figure.

* * *

 

                We went somewhere that was still Chicago, I knew, but was even darker than my own neighborhood. I saw graffiti, dulled and dirty, not street art but territory signs, marks that showed who owned what buildings, what streets. One warehouse remained strangely, assuredly, tellingly clean, though, and I knew this was where we were going before we even stopped. I squirmed and as soon as the car stopped, Gard climbed out to open my door and lead me inside with a heavy, powerful hand. I let her because hey, I might’ve been considering leaping out of the car had the door not been locked, but still, I’d said I’d hear him out. It wasn’t like I couldn’t leave after that anyway, even with Gard around to serve as what I assumed was an intimidation factor, since Hendricks’ physical power didn’t particularly frighten me.

                I regretted my decision to play nice as soon as I stepped through the warehouse door because I felt something, something powerful, snap shut behind me. It was a ward, I realized with sudden clarity, and a damned powerful one, one I couldn’t break from the inside, one similar to but stronger than the one Elaine had put around me in Fairy. I whipped around and saw Marcone standing behind me, looking pleased as a cat with a canary in its mouth, turned a little more and saw Gard gazing blank facedly at me. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth as I looked around desperately. I wondered if I could get them to let me make a call or something, maybe to Carlos. Carlos would be willing to come down here and give me a hand. Yeah. I swallowed thickly and felt trapped, caged, and yeah, scared. I can admit to it.

                Even still, I calmed myself some so I could look around at least sort of objectively. The inside of the warehouse was furnished comfortably, almost like a living room. The couch was long and plush. There was a shelf with books, a table with candles, some matches. I checked my own magic and found I couldn’t touch it.

                “What the hell is this, huh, Johnny?” I spoke coldly. He froze. “Why would you need this? Tell me, damn it! Why the fuck do you… this shit is dangerous, Johnny, and if you think you’ve got a need for it, you’re getting involved in things you shouldn’t.” He stepped forward, obviously trying to look nonthreatening and calm, his palms out and open. I wondered if he knew that there were some things, most of them in my circle, that would kill him, or at least incapacitate him, for that if they didn’t know he was a mortal. I could kill a lot of people, in that particular pose.

                “I don’t understand, Harry, this is simply a place where I bring my allies when they’re in danger. The police do not know about it, so it’s safer than many of my other safe houses.” I glared.

                “That so, Johnny? How about you tell me why it’s warded up like how it is, then. Those aren’t safe house wards; they’re for a prison. As a matter of fact, I’d say these are Council cell quality, if not higher.” He stepped back and turned his face to Gard.

                “Ms. Gard did not inform me of this,” he said, cool, calm, the voice he used when he was trying to stay separate from whoever he was talking about. Gard brought icy blue eyes around to fix on him, nothing being revealed by anything about her.

                “I did not think it relevant, Mr. Marcone, and I knew that your reaction to it would be unwarranted. This is the best place for you to keep him, Mr. Marcone; he is quite dangerous. It is not deadly, nor should it be painful for Mr. Dresden in any way.” She wasn’t lying, it didn’t hurt, not like the Thorn Manacles did, but there was still that ache of emptiness that I always felt when my magic was out of my reach. It was as if a part of my soul had been cleaved off and thrown away, eaten and destroyed, maybe a little like what had happened with the Nightmare when it ate bits of me in that dream. I paced around the room with long strides as I felt the wards obsessively for weakness. I couldn’t find any. I cleared my throat and moved to sit stiffly on the couch. I let my eyes trace over the titles of the books and noticed a lot that I both knew and enjoyed. I attributed it to coincidence and looked at Marcone again.

                “Well? Tell me what you want to tell me, get it all off your chest. I want to get out of here.” He nodded and sat beside me before he gestured for Gard to leave. She did so.

                “I suppose you could leave whenever you wished, correct?” I rolled my eyes.

                “As if. I just said that I couldn’t break these wards even if they weren’t keeping me from using my magic.”

                “You can’t use it?” I rolled my eyes and held out my gloved hand.

                “Fuego,” I mumbled, but nothing happened. The air was still, without even the barest whisper of my will. “I’m as good as vanilla in here, and even if by some miracle I did manage to knock you out I couldn’t open the door because I’m not really as good as vanilla.” He cleared his throat.

                “I apologize. I say again that I had no idea of the nature of these wards.” I shrugged.

                “It’s fine. I… they can be used to keep stuff out, too, not just in. I just freaked out a little since I don’t like places like this. They’re a good safety precaution. Just be careful when you put magic users in here. The majority aren’t as forgiving as me, and they could see bringing them to a place like this without full disclosure on the side effects as a threat. Hell’s Bells, I could, too, to be honest.” He offered a thin half smile, seeming more out of his element than I’d ever seen him even though he had all the power and all the cards right now.

                “Thank you for the advice, then. Now. How many favors do you consider yourself to owe me?” I pursed my lips and thought hard about it, since giving him false information here could get me into shit.

                “Uh. There was the thing a little while ago with Corpsetaker where you saved my ass, so that’s one. There was that thing in Varsity with your bodyguard when he took my hair, but that one I think I actually owe to Hendricks, so it doesn’t count. The thing over the pit with the Loup Garou is kind of tricky, but I’m pretty sure I owe you two for that since you saved me and those important to me, so you’re up to three there. Oh, and you pulled me out of the river that one time, so four. I owe you four favors. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize it was that much.” I wondered if he’d tell Hendricks about the one I technically owed him because if he did then I would probably be really screwed. Who the hell knew what a guy like Hendricks would want from a wizard?  

                “Hm. I’d like to call one of them in, then.” I winced.

                “What?”

                “Do not ever perform in one of those videos again, no matter what. If you need money that desperately, you will come to me.” I sighed. I really, really didn’t want to do this because damn it, none of it was his business anyway, but I didn’t exactly have a choice. Both of those things were totally within reason for the services he’d done me. Maybe if I told him he could only have one, he’d back off on the more unreasonable one.

                “That’s two favors, Marcone. Sorry, but I’ve got to be picky; this is accords business, not anything relating to me.” He nodded.

                “Perfectly worth it.” Of course. I cleared my throat carefully, took a deep breath. Solemn vows, oaths like this, were important, even if I didn’t exactly want to be involved.

                “Fine. You want it totally binding?” He nodded. “I need your real Name, then. If you want Gard here too, for safety, then you’d have mine as well.” He called her back and spoke clearly, carefully, his voice lilting over the words. With them, I felt the power of a true Name, and let my eyes close for a brief moment. Gard appeared somewhat annoyed, considering she probably figured her boss had just done something really dumb.

                “Melchiore Leo Lorenzi.” I took in a long, low breath again, to prepare myself.

                “I, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, do solemnly swear to thee, Melchiore Leo Lorenzi, by mine own magic, that I shall never again participate in an adult film directed by mine friend Arturo Genosa, and if ever I find mine own self in great need of money, I shall go to thee for aid.” The promise snapped around us like a vice, unrelenting and heavy. A new headache, the weight of more promises I hadn’t wanted to make, to keep, throbbed in my skull. It was silent until Gard spoke up.

                “You’ve cheated him, wizard.” I blinked.

                “No I didn’t. He made two requests, that’s two favors, and I gave him what he asked for. That’s all I’m obligated to do.” She offered a wan smile.

                “Perhaps with other wizards, or the beings of the Nevernever with whom you are prone to consorting, but not with a mortal. You should have explained equivalency to him. After all, he gave you the greatest favor of them all, did he not?” I shrugged.

                “Not my problem. I’ll keep the promises I made, and if he wants more for his other favors, he can ask for more. Sorry, Gard, but nowhere in the rules for this stuff does it say I’m required to explain anything, and I was partially raised by a fairy, so yeah, maybe you should’ve expected this anyway,” I said, a sharp grin painting my face. Before now, I’d never been grateful that Lea had had such a hand in my upbringing. I guess everything comes in handy sometimes. Marcone’s hand settled on my thigh and patted there softly.

                “It’s perfectly alright, Ms. Gard. I both asked for and received what I wanted. You may leave again, by the way. There is yet more I wish to discuss with Mr. Dresden.” And of course there was. Why ever would I think I was done? That’s not how my life works. I raised my eyebrows at him as Gard wandered out. “I’d like to call in another, Harry, this one perhaps a bit more fair for me. When I ask you a question, any question at any time, I’d like you to give me a truthful answer.” I flinched. Bastard learned damn fast, Stones.

                “Alright. Cross my heart, Johnny, and by my power,” I told him, my fingers making a practiced X over the center of my chest, a stupid, crooked grin curling my lips. He nodded.

                “Let’s test it then, shall we? Where were you born?” The compulsion hit me hard and sudden, a bright flash behind my eyes, a million impulses flashing through my brain at once, too much sensation, too much everything. People weren’t meant to make promises like that, and I liked my little white lies. I wouldn’t have them with him anymore. A sudden fear overtook me because I’d told him a big lie not long ago, this very day, as a matter of fact, one of my biggest. He’d be pissed, if ever he found out the truth regarding that. I hoped he wouldn’t ever get suspicious enough of what I’d said to ask.

                “Here, in Chicago. My mother loved it here, so this was where she wanted me to be born. My dad and I moved right after, though, because she’d died and he was sad,” I told him, my teeth gritted together tightly, my muscles tight and shaking. I hated this, hated these favors, these promises. His hand, the one on my thigh still, clenched and patted.

                “That’s good, thank you. Let me escort you back to your car, and then you may go where you wish.” I stood and walked out behind him after Gard brought the wards down. I stayed stubbornly silent all the way back to my car and didn't return his goodbye when I drove off.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                I’d gone a bit overboard, perhaps, with the favors, been a bit stupid, because all I’d done was extract three favors, one of which I now realized I had no way of being certain he’d actually agreed to, the others of which he may have been unfair, may have included some sort of loophole for himself in. I only had one left, now, one left if I ever needed his aid, if I ever needed him. I had no idea if that was enough, nor did I know how much I could actually milk out of a single favor. I assumed quite a lot, by what Gard had said, and by the fact that he’d agreed to my last despite seeming almost painfully reluctant.

                I hadn’t wanted to hurt him, not in any of this, and yet it seemed that was what I’d done. Still, he was so… frustrating, so impossible, so everything. He knew exactly how to bother me, how to hurt me, and he did it all without pause or care. I supposed it was somewhat reassuring, though, that trait, since it reminded me that what I’d seen was all a lie, an act, a game. There was no one alive that could really make Harry act that way, not even me. The second one, though, the one I’d seen the beginnings of, that was the one that truly unnerved me. He really could act that way, I knew, for anyone that happened to get him weak enough or bound enough or tied enough. He’d always play at boldness and strength, I could recognize that much, but one day I couldn’t help but fear that’s all it would be, a play, a last ditch attempt at making his captor think he was still ahead. I prayed I’d still be around, on that day, so that I could save him and make it all real again. He’d stop being himself if it wasn’t real and I couldn’t stand that.

                I wondered if perhaps I’d learned too much this day, things he hadn’t wanted me to recognize but that he’d revealed to me inadvertently. He showed too much, sometimes, to people like me who didn’t need to know. There were too many lies and half-truths between us, I knew that, and perhaps that’s why I’d asked for that promise, so that I could know it all, and therefore be better at keeping him safe. Honestly, though, I assumed those little lies were used with most of his friends as well. He wanted to keep people safe, so he kept them out, even me, although he’d never actually say that. I’d gathered it from how he’d acted when he went in the warehouse, though, from how he’d told me I was “getting involved in things I shouldn’t”. There’d been worry behind his fear, worry for me, and the fear was just as telling. He’d been imprisoned before, though I didn’t know where, and with wards similar to those, thus they’d scared him. The manacles Gard had had as well; they’d produced a fright in him that was nearly instinctual. I’d never seen him afraid quite like that, even facing down a rabid Loup Garou or staring the most frightening man I’d ever met, Nicodemus, right in the face. Hell, he’d made a _joke_ ith Nicodemus, and yet a simple set of handcuffs had nearly had him cowering. That was a fear that had been inlaid in him, one he couldn’t control. Someone or something had happened to him, likely multiple times, to make him fear those handcuffs.

               Then there were the things that had happened on set, how he’d not wanted his ankles tied, and how Guffie had made certain that no knives were to be involved, even though he’d had a whip of all things trailing down Harry’s chest when I pulled him free. Fears. Hell, I hadn’t even known he’d had that many. Perhaps all this could be things to ask him about, later, when he had a bit of time to calm down. I buried my face in my hands tiredly and released a deep, heavy sigh. Fears and lies. I’d never hated either of them more in my life. 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry’s POV

                Thomas was waiting for me somewhat worriedly when I got home, his arms crossed and his face tense. I offered him my best smile, but it didn’t seem to relax him.

                “Where the hell were you? Arturo called and said something happened, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else. Said he didn’t want to risk it. Empty Night, Harry, what sort of stupid bullshit did you pull this time?” he raged at me as soon as I got my door shut, bare toes digging periodically into my rugs. I snorted.

                “Johnny kidnapped me.” He paused. His arms fell. He blinked. I actually had to laugh at that. Brothers are good for that, for making you feel better at times like this. A quick moment passed as I continued laughing hard enough that I nearly had to double over. Thomas had just looked so _ridiculous,_ and when I run out of adrenaline everything suddenly becomes at least three times as funny as it should be. Thomas finally gave in and started laughing with me as we stumbled over to the couch. We leaned against one another comfortably as the laughter faded, and his hair tickled the side of my neck. I’d gotten so used to that recently that it was only a minor, distant annoyance, something that probably should’ve bothered me but didn’t. He punched my side lightly, the sensation more ticklish than anything else as his knuckles dug softly into my ribs. I elbowed his chest in return, and it seemed to have just as much of an effect as his fist. We let out twin sighs, my brother and I, and I let my eyes close.

                Everyone said I was stupid for this, for letting him into my house, but I couldn’t ever bring myself to care. I mean, hell, even Murphy worried over it, and sometimes I saw her eyes linger on my neck when I was around, as if that would tell her anything, as if the White Court left marks on their Thralls. People didn’t understand, though, none of them did, not even my best friends, though I loved them dearly. Thomas was my brother, my _family._ I trusted him implicitly, no matter what. I knew that he was a good person, and that he fought hard, and that he’d never hurt me if he could avoid it. Besides, it was obvious that he cared about me too, that I was more than a roof over his head and a free meal in his belly. He felt the same for me as I did for him. He was heavy against my shoulder and I was sure I was the same against his.

                “Are you going to offer some clarification on that or am I going to have to ask?” I grinned, although my eyes remained closed.

                “Ask away, Thomas. That situation was way too ridiculous for me to discuss it without prompting.”  He sighed. Admittedly, I can be kind of a dick to Thomas when I feel like this, tired and happy to be home because my world was a dangerous place and I’d just gotten through another dangerous day.

                “What, did he sweep you off your feet or something? Fly you off to Italy to have a nice picnic by the coliseum? Express his desire to produce little manipulative Wizard babies with you?” But he can be a dick right back at me, so it’s okay.

                “Sorry, it wasn’t nearly that romantic. This isn’t Pretty Woman, and even if it was, I’m a porn star, not a prostitute. Big difference. Anyway. It was weird. I have literally no idea what was wrong with him. He just sort of yanked me out from under Guffie, stole my car, and drove me off to an apartment in some area I didn’t recognize. After that, Gard came by with one of his cars and he drove me to a warehouse in some other area I didn’t recognize. Then he just wanted me to repay the favors I owe him for saving my life four times, so I made him a few promises and he brought me back to my car. I came back here after that.” I felt Thomas sit up and even though my eyes were shut I’m almost positive he was giving me that one look he has, the one that says he thinks I should probably be kept on a leash to avoid this kind of thing happening.    

                “You don’t know what was wrong with him. He’s stalked you for years, Harry, and you brought him to a porn set where you knew you would be getting fucked, and you _don’t know what was wrong with him._ Empty Night, you’re an idiot. An oblivious idiot.” I opened my eyes to glare at him.

                “Oh yeah? How about you tell me what was up with him then, genius? Enlighten me, come on.” Yeah, I was being annoying about it, but honestly, I kind of was curious, and if he had an insight, I was willing to hear it. Also, I don’t know if he really was giving me the look a few seconds ago, but if he wasn’t, he definitely was now.

                “You’re a grown up, Harry. Figure it out on your own this time. I won’t always be around, you know. Still. What kind of stuff did you promise him, and is it going to be an issue later? I know how you are with promises, and favors, even though it’s really uncalled for more often than not.” I assumed his answer meant that he actually had no idea why Marcone was being odd either and just wanted to make fun of me. And also he had no right to call me weird about favors. What with my particular associations, I thought I had enough reason to be, and it was only polite, really, and okay, maybe I was willing to go a little too far to repay them, but still, it wasn’t excessive, really. I decided to stop that train of thought right there and not look at it anymore for a while.

                “Not much. I had to swear them by my power, but the wording should be loose enough that I can get around all but one of them.” He nodded and relaxed back against me again. I did the same.

                “Should we call Arturo and tell him you’re alright? He’ll probably want to finish filming without a criminal mastermind hanging around.” I shrugged and his head bounced.

                “Yeah, there’s one of things we’re going to have to be careful about. See, I got it to where I can still do the movie, Arturo just can’t direct it. You know how to use his cameras and things, right?” He sighed, and when he spoke again, it was so quiet I could hardly hear it.

                “He kidnaps you off a porn set and then demands that you not perform in an adult film again and you don’t fucking know what’s wrong with him, hell,” he grumbled, then spoke up some. “Yeah, I do, he taught me a little while after we met. Apparently his actors did better with me in the room, no idea why. So long as he tells me what he wants, I’ll do it. Never thought I’d have to see your skinny ass like that, though.” I laughed.

                “Yeah, yeah, I know. Deal with it, though, if you want rent money. I’ll do the videos, but I’m not going to do them with someone I don’t know from Adam in the room.” I felt his hand grope around to pat my own.

                “Yeah. Look, I know you’re giving up a lot to do this, and I’m… you know you don’t have to, right? I won’t be upset with you if you don’t.” I nodded vaguely, a thin smile stretching my lips.

                “I know, Thomas. You’re not making me do anything, and I… it’s not as big of a deal as you seem to think it is. It wasn’t anything important. If anything, it’ll probably keep me a little safer. I’m not as suitable for sacrifice anymore, you know?” He smiled, and his hand clutched instead of patting. His fingertips were solid ice, as always, but I knew mine weren’t much better, so I didn’t complain. The lie I’d told Marcone nagged at me now as I teased at the truth, and with it came every other lie I’d ever told him, all of them begging to be resolved. There’d been a lot of lies. I hadn’t even thought of it before now, but seeing it all bare in my mind, there were a lot, and many of them were ones I always used, lies I told everyone, lies about just exactly what had brought me to Chicago, about my past, about little everyday details that would just upset people if I mentioned them, so I didn’t or I lied. It was easier. My promise made me want to clear the air with Marcone, to tell him the truth about everything, but I could ignore it, just like I could ignore any other lies I told him so long as they weren’t in response to a direct question. It’d probably be difficult, but I could manage. I’d managed worse before.

                “You’re rationalizing again.” I nodded.

                “Probably, but I always do that.” I could feel his smile on my skin and I heard it when he spoke again.

                “Yeah, you do. Dumbass.” He sat up again and put a little bit of space between us, a comfortable half-inch between our shoulders, but his hand stayed on mine, his palm heavy and his fingers determined to slide between mine. Brothers. Family. Home. It made me smile to consider. I’d gone so long thinking I was alone, without family, and I’d always felt so… that had been the only thing about Murphy that bothered me, her habit of scorning family, and I knew there was a good reason for it, but… I’d have killed to have a mother nag at me like hers does because that would’ve meant that there was someone out there, one person, who was willing to do anything, including piss me off, to have what was best for me. Thomas became that person for me, that one person who shared my blood, that one person who’d move worlds for me no matter what I’d said or done to him, and I’d do the same for him. Hell’s Bells, I’ve been way too philosophical the last few days. I blamed Marcone, the bastard, always fucking with me. I rolled my eyes as his stupid stupidly handsome face and his stupid stupidly pretty money eyes flashed across my brain, then stretched over to grab my good old rotary phone from the table beside the couch. It was at that point that I noticed a bill lying there beside it, unpaid and splattered with ink. The figure of $230 gazed back at me in thick, blocky, dark, and strangely foreboding letters.  

                A vague thought of me having no way in hell to pay the damned thing at the moment flitted across my mind, but apparently that was all it took, because I was suddenly dialing Johnny’s number without any form of thought or recognition beyond my memory of the number on a business card he’d slipped me years before. He picked up on the second ring, before I had time to hang the damned phone up.

                “Mr. Dresden? To what do I owe the pleasure?” I clenched my teeth but spoke anyway.

                “There’s a bill on my table. I don’t even know what it’s for, but it’s a lot. I think it might be for the utilities,” I ground out. I heard a smirk in his voice when he spoke next, don’t ask me how.

                “And?” I glared at the air. I knew he wouldn’t make it easy. I knew he’d want me to _say_ it. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, though.

                “Never mind. I’m not in ‘great need’ of money. I only need a little. I can get that much for an odd job for Mrs. S. Never mind.” And so I managed to hang up the phone, and yet again I felt grateful for Lea. That ‘great need’ technicality would save my ass a lot, I could tell, because I was the one who was allowed to define what great need was. Hell, I could be in a cardboard box and if I just believed I wasn’t in great enough need I wouldn’t have to take shit from him. Good. I could deal with all this yet, probably. Thomas was staring at me confusedly, but I just gave him our patented ‘we’ll talk later’ look and called Arturo. He sounded worried when he picked up, a nervous worry that just didn’t fit with the rest of him.

                “Harry? Is that you, or Thomas?” I laughed.

                “The one and only Harry Dresden, Arturo. I didn’t cause too much trouble, did I?” His relief was almost palpable, even through the phone.

                “No, not at all. I’m simply glad that you’re alright. I hadn’t even thought Mr. Marcone could look as angered as he did upon carrying you away! Jake will be pleased as well, of course.”

                “Well, I’ll tell him I said thanks when I get there. Thomas and I are going to drive up there now, okay? Get the camera ready, but Thomas will have to actually direct everything because of a promise I ended up making, so long as you trust him to do it.” I could almost see Arturo’s confusion.

                “Of course I do. Are you certain that you’d like to continue despite Mr. Marcone’s… disapproval?” I snickered, because even if I did want to leave Arturo high and dry with this, there was no way in hell I’d pass up a chance to dig under Marcone’s skin.    

                “Yeah, it’s no problem. I made him the promise he asked me for, and I don’t have any responsibility to do anything else.” I knew he didn’t know what I was talking about, but whatever. It wasn’t that big of a deal, so long as he could understand that I’d continue my work for him. Besides, it made me feel better to say all that out loud.

                “I’ll see you soon then, Harry.” I nodded at the empty space in front of me and told Arturo goodbye before I hung up the old phone. It rang again seconds after. Also, I might not have caller ID, and I’m in no way a psychic, but I was pretty damned sure that I knew who it was before I picked it up. I almost wished that I did, or that I was, so that I could’ve been sure and just not answered the thing. Life doesn’t make things easy, though.

                “Mr. Dresden? Harry? Do not hang up on me like that. What were you thinking?” The question tugged a response from my throat.

                “I was thinking that I don’t want your help, and that I’m going to use any loophole I can make for myself to avoid taking it. I was thinking that since I’m the one who made the promise, I’m allowed to decide what great need means.” He sighed, and with it came frustration.

                “What about me is so reprehensible, Harry? Will you at least tell me that much?” I took a deep breath, and prepared myself for some kind of rant about his ‘profession’, about the drugs and the guns and the death and the fear that went hand in hand with his world. I got ready to explain just how much I hated him, him and his work, him and his minions, him and his stupid, stupid kind smile and soft face and gentle eyes when he’d looked at me today. I got ready for all that, and I got ready to hear him close off his voice to hide little flecks of annoyance and maybe some pain that I always saw but never acknowledged. He didn’t always like himself either, I knew that. None of that happened, though, I didn’t say a single thing that I was thinking.

                “I don’t know.” The words scared me. I didn’t know? What the hell? How could I not know? Of course I knew. He seemed to be saying something else but I didn’t hear it. Everything sounded like rushing water. I hung the phone up and ran outside. The cool air felt good. It had been too hot in my house. It was never too hot in my house. Thomas ran outside after me, still shrugging into a shirt and hopping into his shoes as I climbed into my car.

* * *

 

                Thomas seemed to know that something was wrong as I drove. That might’ve been because I almost crashed the car twice. He finally insisted on us switching seats even though the shoe I’d seen him hopping into when we left was the only one he’d had with him. Hell’s Bells, why had I said what I had? It didn’t even make sense. Of course I knew, of course I did. He was everything I was against, so I hated him. Right? Then why had I said that. I felt fine, so I knew I hadn’t lied, and yet I was pretty sure I had. The scenery flew by in a blur because Thomas is a really awful driver. If I didn’t want my car wrecked why had I given it to him? I really _was_ confused. I snorted. Marcone had treated my car better when he was kidnapping me. I snickered under my breath while the car behind us flipped Thomas off for swerving suddenly into his lane. Thomas stuck his arm out the window and flipped him off back before sending my darling Blue Beetle rocketing forward at speeds she wasn’t meant to go. I had a couple more heart attacks before we got to Arturo’s and vowed not to let Thomas behind the wheel of my car again no matter how off my game I was feeling. I climbed out of the car on jelly legs and wandered inside Arturo’s building for the second time that day.

                Arturo greeted me politely with a clap on my shoulder while Jake came up and gave me a hard hug. He’d always been a tactile guy, so I returned the gesture even though it felt like he was trying to break ribs instead of greet me. When he pulled away his eyes were wide and, in a way, somewhat childish, as if he’d just had his favorite puppy taken and then returned to him.

                “Jesus, Harry, next time try not to bring your psychotic mobster. I was worried! Who knows what he could’ve done to you?” I offered a tight, thin-lipped smile, and I knew my eyes were flashing in that way Murphy says signals I’m about to say something stupid.

                “Not a thing. I could Feng Shui him to death before he managed anything against me.” You know, so long as I wasn’t in his fancy warehouse. But that was irrelevant. Jake punched me in a way I’m sure he thought was friendly, but goddamn, he’s bigger than me. I jammed my lethal weapon hip into his stomach. He gagged.

                “Still,” he coughed quietly, “He’s a dangerous guy.” I shrugged.

                “I am too.” And that was the truth, that was honesty. I was dangerous. I recognized truth there. Why couldn’t I recognize it in what I told Marcone? Why didn’t I know? Of course I knew the answer to what he’d asked. I hated him mostly on principle, right? Because he was a criminal. Of course. I knew I hated him, I had to. I was supposed to. And with a sudden shock, I hit on the heart of the issue. I suddenly knew. I hated him because I was supposed to. I hated him because I was the hero of the story and he was the villain. Wasn’t he? I wasn’t sure sometimes. He liked to play at being noble, and Stones, sometimes he really was, but he wasn’t… he… I still didn’t know. I can only have so many epiphanies in one day, you know? Still. I knew that hate like that isn’t always pure. I claimed to hate a lot of people, a lot of things, simply because I should, but a lot of the time it wasn’t, isn’t, real hate. Hell’s Bells, for a long time I told Eb that I hated him simply because I knew he was from the council, so I was supposed to hate him. I never did, though, I always respected him. The love came later, but always, always I respected him. Stars, even before Eb I called what I felt for DuMorne hate, but it wasn’t, it was… something caught between love and hate, but it was easier to call it hate, after all he’d done to me. I took a deep breath. Take it one step at a time, Dresden. You’re getting there. I let the breath out and grinned over at Jake. “Anyway, ready to pick it up where we left off? We’ve got a movie to make.” He nodded, and off we went to get back into our respective costumes and positions.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                He didn’t know. He… I didn’t understand. That had to have been a lie, he couldn’t show me that much distaste, that much anger, and not know the reason for it himself. The last promise must not have taken. It couldn’t have. I didn’t see how. I called for Gard numbly, my fingers hitting her call button with a practiced ease that I didn’t feel. She swept into the room, blank faced and cold. I’d been upset with her, for the wards, when we’d come back. She’d given me yet another lecture about how Mr. Dresden was not a man to be trifled with, that all precautions should be taken when dealing with him, no matter how much I claimed to trust that he’d not hurt me if I didn’t deserve it. She’d called him dangerous. I’d threatened to fire her. She’d threatened to quit. She’d left angry and we’re both good at holding grudges, despite the fact that we’d had this argument time and again during our business arrangement. I wished I could have left her alone a bit longer, allowed her to vent about my idiocy and my love and my humanity to Hendricks for a while, but I needed… if I didn’t know why he’d said that, I thought I might go insane.

                “Ms. Gard. I apologize for disturbing you again, but I’d like you to tell me if a promise he made me whilst you were out of the room was legitimate or not.” She crossed her arms.

                “Tell me what he said, then.” She didn’t even have to ask who I meant. I expected no less of her. A sharp tang of pride, of pleasure, threatened to overcome the lingering anger at her keeping something from me, at her frightening Harry.

                “I requested that he never lie to me, and he said, ‘cross my heart and by my power.’” She nodded.

                “Did he truly cross his heart?” I thought, and recalled that yes, he had. It had been quick and vague, but he had.

                “Yes.”

                “Then the promise should be binding, just as the others, or as binding as possible when made with such a serpentine tongue. Why? Do you suspect a lie of him?” Gard was keeping something from me, I knew that much, and I assumed it related to those loopholes Harry had mentioned. Gard must have noticed them immediately, for her to speak of him as such. Still, her words bothered me, as I didn’t like it when someone spoke ill of him. He was a good man, and I expected others to treat him as such. He didn’t deserve such insults.

                “I do not know. He gave me an answer that was quite unexpected, when I asked him why he had such hatred for me.” She calmed, some, and even allowed herself a small smile. It was often amusement at my ‘mortality’ that caused her to forgive me, and while I found that a bit annoying, I also knew it was likely for the best. An angry employee is not a good one, and so I strive to keep my people happy. Still, Ms. Gard is a bit bothersome on the best of days. Were I being honest I’d say she reminded me of Mr. Dresden, but even I have occasion to lie at times.

                “And that answer was, Mr. Marcone?”

                “He told me that he didn’t know.” A sharp, wild smile tugged at her lips.

                “Perhaps this will be confusing to you both, but he was likely telling the truth. Mr. Dresden, despite what some may think of him, is an adept liar. People can speak the truth without knowing that it is the truth they speak, you know. That promise is a dangerous one for each of you. I fear that some of Mr. Dresden’s falsehoods are for the benefit of everyone, himself included.” And then she left, although the answer I’d received was quite unsatisfactory. I pressed my palms into my eyes and valiantly fought against the headache that was threatening to overtake me. Harry didn’t know why he hated me. Perhaps, then, his hate was not so strong after all. Perhaps I could change it yet. Hate and love, after all, are not so dissimilar.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                Thomas is a very picky director, even when he doesn’t stand to lose anything. I sighed as he yelled yet again for me to stop looking like I was about to kick Jake in the face. I wanted to know just where exactly he wanted me to put my legs because there are really only so many places that they can go. I would have told him this, but I had the handle of a whip in my mouth, and Jake was holding it there relatively forcefully. I wriggled them around and actually did kick Jake lightly on the jaw, and he finally took pity on my and grabbed my ankle so he could fold it up where Thomas apparently wanted it. My spine popped in about three places and I considered that yoga thing Murphy told me about not for the first time. Still, the slight burn in the muscle of my thighs and back was actually sort of pleasant. It’d been a while since I’d bent this much.

                “Yeah, that’s awesome! Keep him like that, Guffie, he looks good enough to eat. Also, awesome job with the face, Harry, you really look like you’re ready to bite his head off.” I rolled my eyes behind the now comforting blindfold and considered whose head I’d really like to bite off. I felt Guffie bend down to whisper in my ear.

                “He’s getting a little too into this role, isn’t he?” I did my damndest not to grin around the whip and nodded my head just slightly, not even enough to register on camera. Jake had spoken to me like that periodically through both of these videos, sometimes to direct me, sometimes to encourage me, and sometimes just to say something funny that would calm me down. He pressed the whip handle deeper into my mouth until I gagged for real. “Are you going to be good yet? Are you going to listen to me, little Wizard?” I thrashed and tried to spit the thing out, once again not entirely acting, but his steady weight kept pressing down on me, endless, solid as stone. I shook my head wildly back and forth in the universal gesture for ‘no’. He ran his fingers down my red streaked chest, a result of Thomas’ truly masterful make up skills, that I knew really looked exactly like I’d been hit with a whip.

                His fingers grabbed my nipple harshly and twisted it, and my hips surged up in a way that wasn’t exactly voluntary. I was sure that if Marcone had seen this, if he’d managed to stay this far into the filming process, he’d have known that I’d lied in my office. Before that first video, I’d never been touched like that, no woman I’d been with had tried. It had all been safe and vanilla and nothing at all to prepare me for just how nice it would actually feel. Hell, had the camera not been there, had Jake and I just been there by ourselves, no stop and start to reposition and refocus, I might’ve actually enjoyed it. That was a strange thought, after a full life of never considering the world beyond passionate fumbling in dark bedrooms, but it was almost welcome, almost pleasant. I was getting older, I knew that. I may as well enjoy myself where I can, considering just how insane my life actually is. Still, that promise I’d made, a niggling thing somewhere deep in my skull, insistently demanded that I get up and call Marcone, that I tell him the truth, that I tell him that actually, yeah, I had given away one of my virginities for that video.

I felt myself drool around the whip and couldn’t help but imagine just how awful I probably looked just then, but at least it helped me ignore the nagging in the back of my head. Blunt nails scraped down my sternum and over my belly and then a hand grabbed my cock, no ring around it this time, and jerked a couple of times. I whined and gagged and groaned but still my head thrashed back and forth.

                “You’ll regret that. You’ll regret not listening to me. I’m trying so hard to be nice to you, pet, but you’re just not letting me. I can’t be nice if you won’t let me.” I’d have stuck my tongue out at him in real life, been as much of a dick as I could’ve possibly been, but as it was I just went tense and set my jaw around the thing in my mouth. He yanked it free suddenly and it clanked against my teeth, seconds before his own teeth did the same. I played at biting him again and he played at banging my head against the floor and Thomas called cut one more time. I realized I was shaking, and a cold sweat had broken out on my arms and my face. Guffie let his hands lay, gentle as could be, on my upper arms.

                “Are you still good, Harry?” I offered a wavering smile.

                “You don’t have to ask me every five minutes, Thomas.”

                “Shut up and answer my question, Harry.” I didn’t bother to point out the contradiction in that.

                “I’m fine. Let’s just do this, yeah? I’m not supposed to actually, like, you know, this time, right?” Jake bent down and laughed into my neck lightly, his chest solid against mine as he breathed.

                “You mean come? No, you’re not supposed to in this one. I’m punishing you, remember?” I nodded. I nodded again and relaxed, and once more my leg was moved. His finger trailed down again, down to my ass and I clenched my legs and tried to wrangle myself around and off of him. I yelled out loud curses, curses to his name and his legacy that sounded cool but didn’t actually mean anything, and then he tied the gag around my head with quick, deft hands. Had I really wanted to get away, I’d have taken that opportunity, but instead I just writhed around ineffectually like Thomas told me to do, because apparently it looked good on the camera. I couldn’t imagine how, but I trusted his judgment, at least in matters like this. My body rebelled against it, though, my magic clawing at my hands and my mouth and begging me to get away. I had a sudden memory of Bianca’s vampires, of how they’d… I couldn’t remember everything they’d done to me, the blood loss had seen to that, but Justine, when she’d seen me… I’d known it had been bad. The ropes they’d used bit into my skin like their teeth, and it was a lot of work to hold this separate from all the other times I’d been tied up, bound tight. I tried to focus on the things that felt good, like the gentle push of Jake’s finger into me, the stretch and the burn of it going without something to ease the way. My legs fell limp. My head fell back. A long, low, pathetic groan I’d never admit to spilled out behind the gag. It could hardly muffle it, actually. I heard Jake snicker.

                “Built for this, built to take me. Why are you fighting this so hard, pet? You’re perfect for it. Give me those eyes; give me that body, wizard, and I’ll be good to you.” I jerked, the words harsh where they weren’t meant to be. Comfort. Safety. Protection. I’d been offered all of those things, a lot, and no one ever wanted more than one little thing. One tiny, tiny little thing. Here, in this fantasy land, it was my eyes and my ass. In real life it was the power I represented, it was my soul, it was my will. One little thing for the world. I didn’t like comfort that much anyway. I laughed, wild and free behind the gag, and I felt my eyes go wide and bright with wild light. I managed to spit the gag out.

                “Go fuck yourself,” I said, and the words were amazing on my tongue. The fingers ripped away and a dick replaced them. I didn’t even cry out even though hey, that actually did hurt pretty badly, and I stayed silent but for laughs and still but for thrashing even when he hit that place inside me that made me see sparks the first time and this might’ve been the most freeing thing I’d ever done. He came with a roar and his nails dug welts into my hips as he fell on top of me. I snapped at the bare skin that came near my lips before he pulled away, pulled out, and grabbed me by my hair. My own dick was hard and heavy against my belly. He trailed his fingers around it but didn’t touch.

                “If you feel that way, wizard, I think I’ll leave you here. Who knows how long it’ll be before I come back? Being this way,” he said, tweaked my cock and made me hiss, “for too long will start to hurt. Are you certain you don’t want to apologize?” I grinned.

                “As if.” A black dildo, the one he’d used on me in the first video, appeared in his hand, murky and indistinct through the blindfold, and then slid inside of me. I heard him get off the bed and leave the room, and then I heard Thomas yell cut and the camera shut off across the room.

                “Empty Night, Harry, that was amazing! Especially there at the end. You really pulled off a good character,” I heard Thomas say as he came up to me and helped me sit up to undo my wrists. I flexed them before I pulled the dildo from my own ass and pulled the blindfold from around my face and the gag from around my neck. Flashes of marble white and silver swirled in Thomas’ gray eyes, but I didn’t flinch away from him. He just felt the energy. He wouldn’t take it from me, no matter how tempted he was. I saw him take a deep breath with closed eyes, and when they opened again, he was once more human.

                “I’m not totally sure I should say thanks to that, Thomas. Where the hell are my regular clothes anyway? I took them off here before Marcone swept me off to his boudoir and now I have no idea where they went.” Thomas gestured vaguely at my crotch.

                “Sure you don’t want to take care of that first?”

                “A cold shower will take good enough care of it,” I said. Thomas shook his head.

                “I really don’t know how you live, sometimes.” I laughed and stood, and yeah, maybe if I’d been alone I’d have done something about it, but I wasn’t alone, and while it had been a while since I’d been this hard and not done anything about it, I could deal. My legs quivered as I walked, but it actually wasn’t as bad as the first time, and I wandered back to the back room to attempt to find my clothes. Jake tossed them to me with a crooked grin that could’ve rivaled my own as I walked in and he bounced himself into a pair of jeans that should’ve been at least a size too big for him but seemed to fall on him perfectly. Some people are just lucky like that, I guess. He too gestured in the vague area of my crotch, but not to point out that oh, hey, I was actually still hard, who’d have guessed it.

                “You might not want to put your pants on just yet. There’s a shower through there, you can use that to clean yourself off. I’ll help you if you need it, or Thomas will, probably.” I nodded.

                “Yeah, I think I can manage on my own. Thanks for the offer though, Jake,” I told him, and patted his back as I walked by. He turned and followed me into the bathroom anyway, a nervous look on his face. I raised my eyebrows at him as I turned the shower onto its coldest setting. It still felt warmer than my own shower, damn it. Is there no way for anyone else to join the Polar Bear club with me? It’s getting lonely. Come on, guys, we have meetings every month and more fish than you could ever consider eating, all for free. It’s a good deal. Join us, join us! Jake closed the toilet and sat on top of it as I hopped into the shower. The cold, although not as cold as the cold I was used to, was a shock to my apparently super-heated skin, and I engaged in a full-body shiver for a couple of seconds before I got used to it. My poor hard on never had a chance. “What is it, Guffie?” He sighed.

                “You had a tough time today. If you need help, I know you well enough to know you’re not going to yell for it, and I’d rather be here.” I rolled my eyes.

                “I think the first one would’ve been more traumatic than this one, Jake. I’m sure a young guy like you has something better to do than watch a skinny fuck like me take a cold shower.” His eyes sparkled.

                “I’m not all that young. I’ve even been married before, remember?” I threw my head back and laughed, then laughed harder when my hair splattered water on his face. My legs and my lower back panged achingly to remind me that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea just then.

                “Seems to be a trend among people in this business.” He nodded and stretched and it’s really unfair that he gets to look all muscly and stuff. I mean, I kill monsters, and I am multiple twigs tied up with wires. He’s fucking tree trunks. Still, I was pretty sure it was the showy kind of muscle, the kind for impressing people, instead of the kind that was used for function, like Marcone’s was, and I’m going to stop right there, thank you very much.

                “Maybe so,” he said, and then he just sort of watched as I cleaned his come off of my ass and my thighs. I stayed in there for a while, scrubbing myself off, chatting with him inanely, and then climbed out and got dressed while my hair still dripped wet and cold. He gave me a jacket and I thanked him and gave him a hard, manly man hug as I left with Thomas.

* * *

 

                When Thomas and I got back home, we both just kind of collapsed limply on the couch again. Mouse, who’d been mysteriously absent earlier, came in and sniffed me. He seemed a little confused, but it didn’t matter much as soon as I started petting him. Silly mutt. I heard Mister, still not quite used to the new addition of a dog to our little family, padding around in my bedroom. Everything felt surreal. All thoughts of Marcone, for the first time today, were gone. There was no worry over promises or lies, there was just me and my couch and my pets and my brother. There was just the shivery feeling of the cold water drying on me, the slow heat of the fire I’d just started in my hearth, the tiny world I’d made perfect for myself here. I took a deep breath and let it out, let my fingers warm, let my clothes steam. Everything was still and quiet. And then the phone started ringing off the hook. I let it do that about three or four times before I finally gave up and picked it up. I heard Marcone’s voice on the other end, almost as close to frantic as he could be. I didn’t bother to listen to a word he said before I told him to stop calling and hung the phone up. Thomas continued to look at me as if he expected an explanation I didn’t yet feel like giving. All I wanted to do was enjoy this rare calm that had suddenly overtaken me. I should’ve figured that Marcone wouldn’t let me have that at least twenty minutes before he nearly bashed down my damned door.   


	4. Chapter 4

                The hinges were bending a little and creaking a lot when I finally made it up to my feet, my staff in hand, and pulled the door open quickly, half shielding myself behind it. Thomas’ fingers were partially hidden beneath the couch, likely clutching at our sawed off shotgun, but I think my heavy, annoyed sigh alerted him to the fact that we had little to fear. Hendricks stared at me blankly, and I saw bruises forming on his left arm where he’d been ramming into my poor zombie damaged door. I figured I should probably get my wards fixed from that particular incident soon, because it really wouldn’t do to have Johnny be capable of using his muscle to break into my house whenever he felt like it.

                “Cujo. Do you not think my door has suffered enough?” I stepped out from behind the door but I kept my fingers wrapped protectively around the staff. The runes carved into it glowed dull, dim orange, and I felt a bit of heat teasing my fingertips as I gathered the barest dredges of magic, just in case. I didn’t see Gard, at the very least. Marcone stepped out from behind Hendricks. Thomas came over to stand beside me, his arms crossed, his body just slightly in front of mine, his elbow gabbing at my side. He always insisted on standing like that whenever he thought I was in danger, and I’d never had the heart to break him of the habit.

                “Well, Dresden, you seem dead set on destroying everything you own. Thought I’d help you out a little.” I couldn’t help a choked off little snort before I went back into serious wizard mode.

                “Yeah, yeah. What’s going on that this is a necessary thing anyway? I was sort of hoping I’d get a nice nap or something today.”

                “I called you numerous times over the past few hours and no one picked up. When someone finally did not long ago, that person responded to nothing I said and instead hung the phone up. Silly me, I assumed that perhaps something was wrong. Why didn’t you answer your phone for so long, Harry?” I gritted my teeth and wondered if twisting the truth, or not telling all of it, would be acceptable.

                “Well, Marcone, I am a grown man, and as a grown man, I figured it would be perfectly okay for me to go out for a while if I felt like going out. You know, since I am an adult with free will and stuff to do.” He seemed to know that I wasn’t telling him everything, don’t ask me how. He had this look in his eyes, suspicious and maybe even a little harsh. He didn’t look at me like that often. I wondered then, for a quick moment, what it was he did look at me with, if it wasn’t this, if it wasn’t suspicion and distrust. I hated having to look at him this closely, hated needing to take my cues from what he was thinking.

                “And why did your roommate not pick the thing up?” Thomas laughed and slung an arm around my shoulders.

                “I was with him, Johnny, and if you’ve got a question for me, ask me, not him.” Marcone tensed his jaw and stepped in front of Hendricks, actually pushed him back a little, and took a step into Thomas’ space.

                “Do not think to use my name so informally, Mr. Raith. We are not friends. I will ask Harry whatever I wish, as I much prefer speaking to him over someone such as yourself.” Thomas laughed, and behind it flashed sharp teeth and a biting tongue.

                “Aw, is poor Johnny scared of the big bad vampire? Do you think I’m going to eat this moron? I wouldn’t dream of it; he isn’t good kine. Even my sister knows that, and she actually wants him.” John’s brow furrowed. Thomas continued to play up a separation between us, like always, the same way I usually did. We just owed each other favors, when people were around. He was just a vampire who’d helped me out of a few tight places with his family when his life was on the line too, so I offered him a place to stay for a little while. On good days, we could call each other friends, but more often than not, I was just food he didn’t want and he was a vampire I didn’t trust. I kept the false thoughts swirling in my head so I’d be able to keep up the act too.

                “Kine?”

                “It means cattle,” I told him, “Wizards aren’t good food, though. I think it’s sort of like how we’d look at a cow that could, I don’t know, throw knives and shoot lightning out of its eyes. We might want to keep it, but we sure as hell wouldn’t want to eat it. Still, he was telling the truth. We left here together. I was fine, Johnny, so there’s nothing to worry about.” I saw him take a deep breath and suddenly he was the John Marcone I always knew, cool and calm. He stepped back, out of Thomas’ bubble, and turned his eyes back to me. They were back to how they always were, and I realized what I usually saw suddenly. Warmth. There was warmth. There was affection. There was kindness. There was safety. There was gentleness. I’d tried so damn hard, but I’d never hated him, had I? I’d wanted to so badly. He made it difficult. I couldn’t hate him for that either. “Do you and Cujo want to come in for a little while? I’ve got food, and sodas, I think, unless Mister drank them.” His shock was almost palpable and I relished in throwing him such a curve because I didn’t seem to get to very often. He stepped inside slowly, calmly, and Hendricks followed him just as slowly. I shut it behind them, and Thomas stared at me with a gaping mouth.

                I ignored all of them and stepped into my tiny attached kitchen. I asked them if they wanted anything to eat or drink and Hendricks asked for coffee. Marcone just wanted water. Boring bastard. I pulled two mismatched cups from the cabinet and filled one with water, then sat it on the counter beside me. I felt Thomas continuing to stare at me, likely still gaping at me like a freak. I rolled my eyes at the wall in front of me and then grabbed attempted to find the coffee can that I knew should’ve been somewhere. I couldn’t find it.

                “If you don’t have coffee, Dresden, you can just tell me. You drink Coke, right? I’ll take some of that,” Hendricks rumbled at me, and I nodded.

                “Yeah, alright.” I opened the icebox and slid out three Coke cans. The spare cup went back in the cabinet, and I carried the stuff back into the living room carefully.

                “Thank you, Harry,” Marcone said, before he sat down on my couch as if he owned it. “Do you have a coaster?” I broke into a wild laugh and curled into my recliner.

                “Do you see my furniture, Marcone? There are rings all over pretty much all of it. Just set the damned glass down, it’s fine.” He did so reluctantly and I laughed as I twisted around and lay sideways over the chair. My legs hung down low enough that my toes brushed the carpeted floor. A twinge of pain shot through me as pressure was put on areas that didn’t want pressure on them just then, and I bit back a hiss and a wince. Marcone’s eyes, all seeing, noticed. I closed my own eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of his digging into me. That would be the exact reason why I didn’t notice Hendricks come up and grab my arm. My eyes flashed open and I jerked and tried to pull free, but his grip was tight as he examined it.

                “Your wrists are burned,” he said, wet looking blue eyes seeming bothered even while the rest of his face was clear of emotion. “And you’ve got scratch marks up here,” he said, a thick finger prodding at my upper arm. “They’re harder to see, though. You wanna tell me what you were doing while you were ‘out’?” I kicked out wildly and managed to land a heel just above his crotch. He let go of me and I jumped up to my feet, got some distance between us, although that just ended up putting me closer to Marcone.

                “Don’t manhandle me in my own house. I invited you guys in to be polite; don’t make me regret it.”

                “You’re such an idiot, Harry,” Thomas told me as he came over to stand by me. “A grade-A fucking idiot.” Marcone gave us those eyes again, the suspicious ones.

                “Answer his question, Harry.”

                “I was just out, Hell’s Bells. You know what the rope burns are.”

                “He didn’t scratch you while I was there, Harry. Where were you when you did not pick up your phone?” I felt, quite suddenly, like curling into a ball somewhere, like hiding. I kept my mouth shut and felt a stinging pain lance through me, likely my one warning to keep my promise. Thomas saw my pain and obviously fought to avoid comforting me. My mouth opened around the words, my tongue teased at them.

                “Arturo’s,” I finally gagged out, “I was at his building, with Thomas.” Marcone took a bitter step forward and reached out to me. His hand clenched around my shirt and I stared into his eyes with more defiance than I thought I could actually call up just then. Thomas reached behind me and curled a discreet hand into the back of my shirt so that he could yank me free if need be, if it came to that. I knew that, at the very least, I wouldn’t get kidnapped again while Thomas was here. Hendricks, though, hulking by the door with crossed arms, could pose an issue. Thomas hadn’t eaten in a while, so he was weaker than he’d normally be. Hendricks was a strong guy; I didn’t know for sure that he wouldn’t be equal to Thomas in strength right at this particular moment.

                “What were you doing there?” I coughed the words up, and they tasted disgusting.

                “I was finishing the movie. I didn’t break my promise, Marcone; Thomas filmed it, not Arturo. I didn’t want to leave him high and dry, I didn’t want to lose him money or time, and I didn’t want to worry him or Jake. I had to go back there.”

                “You had to do no such thing, Harry. What good is a promise from you if I cannot trust it? Tell me what good your word is if you go back on it so quickly.” I shook my head.

                “You can trust that I’ll do exactly what I told you I’d do, John. I promised you that I would call you if I was in great need of money, and I will. Great need is defined by me, though, not you. If you wanted something more from that you should’ve given me a specific number. I promised you that I’d never lie to you if you asked me a direct question, and I haven’t. If you don’t ask me directly, though, I can lie as much as I want, and it doesn’t carry over to clearing up lies I’ve told you before I made the promise. As for the video, I told you I wouldn’t do one that Arturo directed again, and I haven’t. Thomas directed it. If anything, you could argue that Arturo directed it by proxy, but not much else. I have yet to go against anything I told you I would do.” I felt his hands shaking.

                “Why does everything have to be like pulling teeth with you, Harry?”

                “I’ve told you a hundred times to stop calling me that,” I mumbled, stalling for time. I didn’t quite know what would come out of my mouth in answer to that, and I didn’t exactly want to find out in a crowded room like this. It fell out anyway, though, the words tumbling over my tongue and passed my lips to congeal in the air. “And it’s because I can’t make things easy for you. That would make it too much like we were friends, and we’re not. I don’t want to like you. If I get too familiar, I might start.” He paused. The room went still.

                “I believe I need to ask you again: why do you hate me so much?” I gagged, I tried to shut my mouth, I tried, but there was too much risk. I wasn’t going to lose my magic for this promise. I couldn’t. I continued to talk.

                “I don’t hate you. I try to hate you, I try so hard, but I don’t. I can’t. You’re… I make it seem that way because I’m supposed to hate you. You are supposed to be my antithesis, the Lex Luthor to my Superman, but you won’t be the movie villain prop like I want you to be. You’re too damned human; you’re not a monster. I can’t hate things that aren’t monsters.” His fingers loosened around my shirt and he let me go. He obviously didn’t know what to say, and I took pleasure in that, if nothing else.

                “I cannot be a monster to you simply because I am human?” I was breathing too fast. I nodded.

                “Pretty much. Monsters can look like humans, but they’re not. They just wear human skin. All the soul is gone. You’re not like that. You’re… I wouldn’t call you a good man, but you do what you think is best. There’s honor in that.” His hands, wide-palmed and calloused, ran from the center of my chest where they’d been curled in my shirt to my shoulders where they clutched as if he were drowning, as if I were a slowly disappearing ghost he never wanted to lose. Thomas’ nails scraped at the curve of my lower back as if to remind me of his presence. Hendricks kept cool eyes on us, eyes with a spark of intellect I’d always seen but never told him about because it was too much fun to treat him like a meat headed muscle bound dumbass.  Hell’s Bells, I really might actually be a dick. I tried to stay steady in the face of green eyes that appeared to want a second Soul Gaze.

                “I assume you’ve been faced with those as well?” he said, but the end lilted up like a question, so I treated it as one, although I was pretty sure I’d never lie about that. It’d be too easy to tell that I wasn’t telling the truth, with something like that.

                “Yeah, enough.” I thought of the parents of a little girl that were so unwilling to admit that they’re child felt alone enough to run away that they were willing to accuse the people trying to save her of kidnapping. I thought of the blank face of Lloyd Slate, of how his world revolved around drugs and fucking and killing now that Winter’s power had so consumed him. I thought of Nicodemus especially, a man who’d been human long ago, truly and fully, a man who was now not even a man but a demon because of how deep his bond with Anduriel went. I offered him the best smile I could, just then, but he didn’t bother to return it. Instead, he dropped me, and he turned, and he left. Hendricks followed him with something he’d never call worry creasing his face. All the tension went out of my muscles and I dropped back against Thomas as the door shut with as much of a slam as was possible. Thomas didn’t even try to make me explain, instead just lowering us both slowly down to the floor. I took the comfort he offered me, accepted the hand loose in my hair, with grace I normally never had.

                He shushed noises I barely realized I was making and hummed songs that might’ve been lullabies or might’ve been 80’s rock ballads or might’ve even been the cheerful bubblegum pop songs he liked to listen to on the Blue Beetle’s radio. The scratches on my arm stung bitterly. Stones, I was tired, bone tired, a deep, endless fatigue that I didn’t often feel. I wondered why Marcone hadn’t asked me anything about the things I did hate. I wondered why he didn’t make me amend my promises to him with his last favor, or have Hendricks make me do it with the one I owed him. I wondered why I’d never noticed that he looked at me with all those nice things in his eyes. I wondered why him being upset with me, suspicious of me, distrustful towards me, had never hurt this way before. I supposed it was because I never paid attention to how he looked at me before now. I felt my cheeks burn with a dull red glow as I dozed against Thomas’ chest.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                My hands quivered. My chest ached. I climbed into the passenger seat of the car and stared out the front window as Hendricks got behind the wheel. Harry’s door was still, and all was quiet and frozen. He’d… it wasn’t hate. He simply didn’t want to like me, although he seemed to, somewhat. He did not think I was evil. He… I was unsure of what to think of all of this. A new guilt overwhelmed me; I’d tied him to me irrevocably, had him make me promises he so obviously didn’t want to keep, took some of his free will from him, and yet he did not hate me. I almost wished he did. I almost wished he saw me as the biggest monster on his doorstep, the most horrible, looming thing he could ever have to deal with. But he didn’t. He thought me honorable. He thought there was a risk of becoming too familiar with me, too friendly. He thought there was a risk of him growing to _like_ me.

                “Boss. Don’t… he made those promises to you because he wanted to, or thought he needed to, or what the hell ever. It was his choice to repay the favors. Don’t feel guilty about that.” I continued to gaze out the window. “Do you… I don’t know, do you want to talk to someone else? Someone unrelated to all of this?” That idea sounded quite nice, actually, but I’d need someone in the know regarding magic and likely someone who knew both me and Harry. That left a rather limited number of people to whom I could turn. 

                “Take me to St. Mary of the Angels,” I told him, quietly.

                “The church? What the hell, Boss, you haven’t gone to church in…”

                “About five years,” I finished for him, “Perhaps it is time I went to confession.” He looked at me for a few moments, confused, but drove unquestioningly away nonetheless. I supposed he did not understand that it was not the forgiveness of any god that I sought, but rather the forgiveness of someone close to Harry, someone who cared about him as I did. We pulled up to the lovely church, the pinnacle of gothic architecture in this area of the city, and I asked Hendricks to wait outside in the vehicle.

                Father Forthill stood in the pulpit at the front of the church, his vestments neat and clean. I cleared my throat to draw attention to myself, and he turned slowly, a kind smile upon his fatherly face. When he spoke to me it was with perfect gentleness and quiet strength, a wizened quality to it that few were able to have. This man here before me, he was a smart man, a brave man, and he used those qualities to improve this community. I relaxed almost completely as the calm of this building overtook me.

                “Hello, Mr. Marcone. Might I ask what has brought you here?”

                “I’d… I’d like to have a confession.” He looked just a touch confused, but he was not the sort to deny that of any who came through his doors, and so I was led to the back of the church to the small, wooden box that served as the confessional. I stepped into my side, and he to his. He watched as my hand unconsciously drifted across my chest in the movements of the sign of the cross, a motion that had long been instilled in me since my youth. I murmured familiar words, murmured that he bless me for I had sinned. A feeling like being stuffed full of cotton filled me.

                “How long has it been since your last confession?” he asked me quietly.

                “Quite some time, many years. I cannot remember the exact number, but I went to church for some time without having confession, before I ceased going entirely. There was far too much to confess, I’m afraid, and much of it was things I’d rather not speak about with a holy man. I am here today in regards to a man we both know and care for. I have done something to him, Father, and it is not so much the forgiveness of a deity that I seek as the forgiveness of a man.”

                “I understand the feeling,” he said, and the comfort in his voice was strange through the darkened window of the confessional.

                “I’m certain you do. This man, I believe I may have forced his back against a wall, had him repay favors to me in the form of promises he did not wish to make, and yet he does not… he says he does not hate me, and as a result of those promises, he cannot lie to me. I do not deserve more from him than hate, and the fact that I seem to have more, better… it is bothering me.” Father Forthill was thoughtfully silent for a second.

                “Is the man you’re speaking of Harry, Mr. Marcone?” I flinched, and even if I hadn’t answered in the affirmative, I’m certain he’d have known. I nearly expected to be flung from the church in anger, to feel the hate of his friend as a replacement for the hate I didn’t feel from him. “I thought so. He repays his favors, Mr. Marcone, no matter what, out of a sense of obligation. He hides behind things like the Accords, but nothing in them mentions the need for a Wizard to repay favors owed. Few do, in fact. If he repaid you as you asked, then he felt what you wanted was appropriate for what you gave him. He would not hate another for accepting what he himself freely offers.” The words were a shock to my system. He had… how strange. That felt like an odd thing to lie about. I supposed he merely didn’t want me to think that he was repaying me out of the kindness of his heart. Perhaps, I thought, I should investigate the ins and outs of those so called Accords myself, determine what the obligations of a wizard truly were.

                “Ah,” I managed, but not much else. I heard a smile in the Father’s voice when he next spoke.

                “However, if your favor was that he not lie to you, he will be somewhat distrustful of you. Harry is an odd man, when it comes to truth; he lies often, yet he does it for good reason, or at the very least reasons that seem good to him. If you wish for him to like you, or continue to like you, perhaps you should show him that he would be safe in trusting you. Perhaps do not exert this control you have over him unless it’s absolutely necessary. Leave him free to lie if he wishes to. Eventually, he will begin to speak truth to you of his own volition.” The advice felt sound, felt good. Besides, he and I had quite a lot to speak of anyway. I wanted a free, easy conversation with him. I wanted much more as well. I’d use what the Father said. Perhaps I could force him into that awful fate of becoming familiar with me.

                “Thank you, Father. May I ask… are you angered with me for what I did, for having him make these promises to me?” He laughed.

                “Harry is perfectly capable of making his own choices. He is a good man; I trust that his soul will one day pass muster. Odd as it may seem, I trust the same of you, Mr. Marcone. Good men come in the strangest of packages, or so I’ve found.” I offered a pale, ghost of a smile.

                “I suppose that I may only hope that you are correct. Have I any penance, Father?”

                “It’s not my place to assign penance when you want mortals to forgive you. Besides, Mr. Marcone, I’m quite certain that you’ve fully chastised yourself.” I swallowed tautly and left the church on slightly unsteady feet. Hendricks then drove me back to my office where Gard decided to passively be angry at the both of us for not calling her and informing her that I was doing something so public as visiting such a populous church. Even after I told her that beyond the Father the church was entirely empty she made it quite clear that she was still annoyed with me, and I’m absolutely positive that Hendricks will be in the doghouse for some time, poor man. Still, I believed that it was all very much worth it.

* * *

 

                Before I called Harry again, I decided I’d have a bit of a conference call with Mr. Genosa. Him being a relatively intelligent man, he picked up quite quickly.

                “Mr. Genosa,” I told him, doing my best to project politeness to him despite the anger that insisted on leaking through. I heard his sharp intake of breath, the bright spark of fear that suddenly overcame him at the sound of my voice. Obviously he knew that the video would upset me, and now he was assuming that I had found out.

                “Hello, Mr. Marcone!” He did an admirable job of expressing joviality in the words, of hiding the fright.

                “Harry came by again today with his roommate, didn’t he? He finished that film?”

                “I’m afraid so, yes. He was quite insistent on finishing it up; although I do promise that I told him he was in no way under any sort of contract with me.”

                “Of course, of course. I do not contest that he was there of his own will, Mr. Genosa. I do not think you the type of person who would need to coerce anyone into working for him. Your films are of high quality, and you are known for being very safe where your employees are concerned. I do not doubt that, for what he was doing, he was in the best of hands. However, I must ask that that film not go anywhere, and that the first be removed as well. I have no problem repaying you however much you gave Mr. Dresden to work on them.” I stared at my computer screen again, and truly it hadn’t been very long since this whole mess began, had it? The sky outside was growing dark.

                “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Mr. Marcone; they’ve both already been sent away for editing and production. I placed the first online only so that I could gauge the public’s interest. I cannot cancel the order.” I gritted my teeth.

                “I do not want so many people to see Harry like that. I can’t imagine that he truly wants that either.” I heard a voice, loud but not truly obnoxious, yelling in the background.

                “Is that Marcone? Let me talk to him!” the voice hollered. Genosa seemed to cover the phone with his hand to reply, so that all I heard was muffled and unintelligible. When clarity came back to the words, the voice was that of Mr. Guffie. “Marcone! Where did you run Harry off to today? Worried the hell out of me. You can’t just do that, man!” I glared at the wall and imagined Guffie hanging there, perhaps with knives involved. He’d touched Harry. That certainly wasn’t excusable.

                “Merely brought him somewhere safe. I, of all people, wish no harm to befall him. Certainly not from doing something like that video.” Guffie laughed.

                “I don’t think you’ve got much of a right to talk about people getting hurt from porn when you own companies that do that and more. What’s Executive Priority again? Would you rather he got a job there?” I clenched the fingers of my free hand.

                “I’d rather he stick to the detective work and stay out of the sex industry, actually. Whether I disapprove or not does not matter; the general public, if that film becomes widespread, may not trust him as much, or respect him as he deserves, if they see it.” Guffie quieted for a moment.

                “People are fucking stupid. Are you and he together or something? I know he said you weren’t, but this is… you act like you are. I mean, if you are, I’m sorry that I slept with him, but it didn’t mean anything, like, emotionally. Harry and I are good friends, yeah, but I’m straight. If that’s part of what’s worrying you, don’t let it.” I refused to tell Guffie anything about that, anything about what I felt, and so I changed the subject.

                “Just be careful with the damned video. I don’t want anything to go wrong for him because of it. If it’s in any way possible to take it out of circulation, please do. Tell Mr. Genosa that I’ll pay him whatever he wants in return.” I hung the telephone up without waiting for a response as the sky outside grew ever darker. I supposed I’d not get much else done that evening, and so I stood and left the building by myself. I drove to a small apartment that served me well enough some nights, went upstairs, and collapsed into the bed. As always, I dreamt of fire and passion and knife edge grins.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                Thomas and I ended up falling asleep on the floor in the middle of my living room, Mouse and Mister both playing blanket and sprawling out over top of us. I didn’t dream that night; instead, I ended up inside my own head, standing face to face with a man who looked like me but wasn’t (hopefully never would be) me. I call him my ID, but I don’t know what the hell he is. Maybe a product of my insanity. I don’t ask, more often than not, because all he does is try to give me bad advice and annoy me. He seemed to really want to be annoying today (tonight?) because he started to singsong at me as soon as was physically possible.

                “I’ve got a boyfriend, I’ve got a boyfriend!” His singing voice isn’t any better than mine, by the way.

                “That’s nice, I guess. Too bad we can’t all be so lucky,” I told him, my eyebrows cocked high. He laughed.

                “He’s your boyfriend too-o. Good old Jooohnny booooooy. Gonna sweeeep us off our feeet!” he sang, his hands clasped and held up to one cheek, his body swaying back and forth.   

                “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He finally went back to a speaking voice, thank god.

                “Liar. He loves us. He’d give us anything, you know, whatever we wanted. You more so than me, I guess. Our ticket to the world on a silver platter, really. You say that you hate him because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Well, there’s something that you think you’re not supposed to do too, but you do it anyway.” I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, propped my weight up on my left foot.

                “What are you talking about?” His eyes, my eyes, our eyes, god this is confusing, flashed with wild light.

                “Come on, think about it. Think about those pretty eyes, think about how sweet they look at you, and then try to think about how your own eyes look. Warm and fucking gooey. Think about how much you like looking at that body of his. Think about how you’ve saved each other’s lives. Think about how now you just pretend to put up a fight when he asks you something reasonable, like to let him drive you home. Think about how you always call him when shit hits the fan. Think about those dreams you’ve had about him, the ones you never mention and try to forget about. Think about it, pal, and tell me what you do that you’re not supposed to do.” I stepped away, but all those thoughts did fill my skull. Wasn’t I in my skull? Stones. Don’t let this be your life, kids. Anyway. I thought about it. The dreams especially hit me full force.

                They weren’t exactly PG. It was… I’d had them more than once, dreams of husky whispers in my ear and hands on my hips and a lot of other sordid things that made me wake up hard and ashamed. I thought about just how many willing rides I had been taking from him lately, totally random ones where he just happened to show up where I was. I thought about how yeah, he was a good looking guy, and I trusted him to fight by my side. And then I stopped because I realized what my ID was trying to get me to think. I realized and I couldn’t believe it. It was ridiculous, madcap, insane. It was me personified in a thought, honestly, and that wasn’t good. Love. This was always how I treated people I loved. I couldn’t love Johnny, though; I wasn’t sup-… fuck. I wasn’t supposed to. My ID grinned at me with sharp teeth and his Evil Beard of Evil made it look really Evil.

                “You get it now, Harry? We’re in L O V E love. Big letters scream it from the rooftops love. Come on, say it with me: I love John Marcone! It’s so freeing! Think his dick’s bigger than Guffie’s? Not to say Jake is small or anything, but damn, Johnny’s got balls. He’s gotta have a cock to match, yeah?” Twin flushes, his from excitement and mine from embarrassment, rose on our faces. I reeled away, because no, I didn’t love him. I only just told him that I didn’t hate him. It wasn’t love. It was attraction; it was… it was a lust for something I couldn’t, shouldn’t, have. That was common, right? It didn’t mean love. He was just nice to look at and nice to think about. I didn’t love everyone I wanted to… to have sex with. I didn’t love him. My ID looked at me, obviously annoyed.

                “I don’t. He doesn’t. We don’t. That’s ridiculous.” He rolled his eyes.

                “Oh, come on, Harry, Thomas practically shouted it at you! What reason could he possibly have, beyond love, to do what he did, huh? Would you want the watch the person you love getting fucked by someone whose job is partially being good at fucking? He took you because he was jealous, and hell, Harry, no one wants the one they love to lie to them like you have to him. Everyone wants the one they love to rely on them sometimes, too. Johnny looooves us, or you. Probably mostly you. I don’t think he’d like you too much if you let weren’t so damn noble. Or Lasciel, I know he’d be sad about her. She misses you, you know. It’s so _dull_ back where you have her stuck. Ooh! She’s the Seducer, right? Bet you really could get Johnny to do anything if you let her show you how it’s done.” I took another step back, swallowed down another deep breath. Hell’s Bells, I didn’t like this. I wanted to wake up, but I couldn’t. He wanted me to hear this, badly. I had no idea why.

                “Stop acting crazy,” I said, and he gave me a look. “Crazier,” I amended. “He was just… there’s other reasons for all of that. He wanted to have some kind of control over me. Wanted to know that if he ever needed to know something he could just ask me and I’d have to tell him. He wanted me tied to him, for, I don’t know, blackmail. To cut me off from CPD. He kidnapped me to keep me off balance,” I said, but I didn’t quite believe it myself. Arturo had said he looked genuinely angry as he carried me off. He’d seemed so disappointed when he thought I’d just run away. He’d seemed as if I’d just taken his last hope and stomped on it right before his eyes. He was a hopeful kind of guy, I’d always known that; he hoped to improve things. I think sometimes he hoped that things would improve enough that he’d be unnecessary, that all of us defenders would be unnecessary. I hoped for the same, honestly. I’d never noticed how it hurt to feel as though I had taken one of his many hopes. He was… did he love me?

                He’d saved me a lot. He’d looked a little desperate those times. He’d looked… he’d looked devastated, sometimes, when I turned him away. Sometimes he’d looked angry at me too, though, even if it was never the cold, I’ll-kill-you-and-I’ll-enjoy-it anger I caught from some other people. It was more like how Thomas looked when he was angry at me, actually. It was the kind of anger people showed to the ones they cared about when the ones they cared about were being stupid and reckless. People often say that he’s cool as stone, blank as a marble wall, but that isn’t true. He shows a lot more than he thinks, behind the icy wall of his eyes, hidden in the lines of his face and the different types of tension in his body. He was adept at hiding things, yeah, but I was adept at reading them. I saw his emotions, his feelings, the things he kept hidden, but I often tried not to, tried to ignore it all.

                “You know why you do it, too,” my ID said, “It’s all because you’re scared. You’re scared that you’ll see the love because if you see it in him then you just might start to see it in yourself. You might be forced to fucking realize that over all these years something has happened, something has changed between you two. You’ve been enemies and you’ve been allies and you’ve been friends and you are in fucking love. You ignored every step of it, too, tried to block every last bit of it out, and you’ve almost done it, a few times. Hell, every now and then you almost managed to even convince me that we despised him. You never quite got there, though. You can lie to the world, Harry, but hell if you can lie to me. Hell if you can lie to yourself.” Oh, Stars and Stones, Hell’s Bells, he’s not lying. He’s not kidding. He’s not just trying to fuck with me. He’s not. He’s… this is the truth. I do know. I don’t just hate him because I’m supposed to. I hate him because I’m not supposed to do something else. I hate him because I’m not supposed to love him. “Come on, just give it a try. Just say it.” I had to sit down on the cold floor of my head. He stared at me, leather duster that looked way more menacing on him than me whipping around in invisible wind, eyes that were mine but too cold, too base, gazing right through me. Whatever. There weren’t many options left, at that point, so I just went with it.

                “I am Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, and I love Johnny goddamned Marcone.” My ID cackled and clapped his hands.

                “And the last horse finally crosses the fucking finish line! Give him a hand, everybody!” Celestial clapping with no known source is really creepy, by the way, even when it’s happening in your own head. Actually, especially when it’s happening in your own head. “Thanks, Lash honey,” he called, and I heard her accept the gratitude quietly, distantly, in the far off corner of my mind where I had her imprisoned. I’d probably have to fix that area up again, if she was able to exert that much power back there. Anyway, beyond the seemingly source-less clapping, nothing happened because I said that. Everything stayed just exactly how it had been before. I don’t know why, but I think I was expecting some kind of big result, an explosion of light and sound as the universe rearranged itself to accommodate that fact. Instead, everything went on as before, except my ID was right. I felt free, I felt relaxed, like I had at the end of that video. I felt like I’d suddenly accepted some integral part of myself, finally bonded it with the rest of me. It sure as hell didn’t make it any easier to like him, though, even if it seemed more real, now, more like an actual thing, an actual feeling, instead of a ghostly, looming risk I couldn’t poke at for fear of it attacking me.

                “This is weird. I was expecting some bombs to go off.” My ID laughed.

                “I could make that happen, if you want, but I can’t promise that there won’t be collateral damage, and I don’t think you can deal with much more damage up here. The concussions crack the walls often enough. Think I got one of put back together with fucking superglue.” I snickered at that without meaning to because that actually made some weird form of sense, and that was funny.

                “No thanks. So. Have I had enough shocking revelations for the night? Or the rest of my life? Can I wake up now?” He shifted his weight and continued to look down at me.

                “I dunno, it’s two a.m., so I don’t think you actually want to wake up. If you mean can I let you have your actual dreams, then yeah, sure. Have fun, buddy.” And then it was all gone, it was dark, it was soft, and there was a tiger gazing at me from behind a tree not too far away. I felt idiotically safe, and Thomas said the next morning that when he woke up at about 2:30 that morning to carry me off to my actual bed and drop himself on the couch, I was smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be getting a little out of hand, maybe. I can't say for sure. But, uh, yeah. Here. Also, this is at least twice as serious as I intended it to be at the beginning, but it's not awful I guess?


	5. Chapter 5

In a surprisingly unsurprising change of events, Marcone called me and asked me to stop by his office shortly after I woke up for real that morning. Thomas, after that call, also decided to go the ‘be super predictable’ route and attempted to put me on house arrest with the frankly ingenious use of three belts and a spray bottle full of water. However, it’s really, really, painfully easy to burn a hole into the bottom of a plastic spray bottle full of water, even when both of your hands are discomfortingly well-bound to the arms of a chair. He glared at me for that, but did finally relent and let me go see what he wanted so long as U promised to call him on the payphone outside of his office after I finished, or before if he seemed to have any nefarious plans to murder/kidnap/molest me. And yes, he really did say that in those exact words, including the slashes. Sometimes my big brother is sort of dumb.

Anyway, I hopped into my wondrous car, a testament to rainbows and wizards with bad cases of technobane everywhere, and puttered off to Marcone’s million-story-high office building. My good old Blue Beetle got me there at record speeds, which means I arrived at least ten minutes after someone in a newer car would have. Shut up, she does her best, and besides, my car has put up with me continuously almost since I got my license. I think that deserves some praise and recognition.

I went into the office building slowly, maybe even warily, because damn it, no matter what I feel, and no matter what my ID (and Thomas apparently) think Johnny feels, I can’t guarantee what he’s actually feeling or doing. Whatever it is we’re going to have, it sure as hell isn’t a ‘let me don my maidenly blush and leap into his strong, manly arms so that he may carry me off to our sunsets and fairytale endings’ type deal. Both of our lives are way too crazy for that, and also, that just sounds dumb. Any who, what I’m trying to say is I can’t just throw caution to the wind on a hunch, especially not where Marcone is concerned.

After that lovely thought, I climbed John’s million flights of stairs to get to his millionth floor office, all the while staring longingly at his glass elevator because no way was I risking crashing to the ground in that.

When I finally got to the top floor, John’s secretary greeted me with a small, tight smile, her bright brown eyes fixed on my gloved hands, my bad hand. I knew that she’d expected to see my staff, expected me to be as upset as II usually was when I paid Marcone a visit. Instead, and partially as an apology for all the times I’d inadvertently made her life way more difficult than it should’ve been, I gave her my very best smile, the one Murphy said made me look at least ten times more approachable. She looked a touch confused, but also oddly appreciative, or happy, or something like all that. She looked a lot nicer, too, when she relaxed her face, but there was probably more of a call for sternness in her line of work than mushy sweetness.

“Mr. Marcone is waiting for you just behind that door there,” she told me, and I nodded.

“Thanks,” I told her. The door she’d gestured to me was solid, and when I pulled it open, it felt heavier than it probably should have. I assumed it was reinforced with something, but didn’t think on it too hard. Johnny had his fingers in that evil villain pyramid thing when I went in there, his elbows on his desk, and it wasn’t even some kind of act to freak me out; he was just sitting like that. For some reason. Sometimes I think he secretly likes all those clichés. Anyway, for once I actually took a seat in the chair in front of his desk, the one that was way too comfortable for an office chair, without prompting. His eyes glittered with surprise, for the swiftest of seconds, but then it was gone. He kept his face as carefully blank as possible, and I’d thought something would feel different, when I saw him today. I thought I’d feel uncomfortable, or strange, as if something between us had been morphed and damaged ceaselessly, as if I’d never look at him the same again. It wasn’t like that, though, I felt the same as always. I wondered how long I’d felt the way I did without realizing, without acknowledging, without noticing. Hell’s Bells, I wondered why it hadn’t hurt. I realized that he was talking about halfway through his sentence.

“…that I have hurt you quite a lot.” I blinked.

“Huh?” He laughed softly, calmly, politely, but there was a nervous undertone to it. Whatever he’d called me here for today, it was bothering him, upsetting him.

“I was merely saying that by forcing your hand, by causing you to feel obligated to repay those favors to me, I have hurt you, and likely damaged whatever trust there was between us. I regret that deeply.” Oh. I wondered why what he’d done was bothering him; I’d agreed to it. That was how favors worked. You didn’t have to like how you were repaying them. I’d learned that much, over the years. Whoever owns a debt can ask for whatever the hell they want, so long as it’s not an unequal trade, like, if you gave someone a pencil they couldn’t ask you to go kill a man. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and I told him so, spouted exactly what I just spouted here. He stared at me with a raised eyebrow. “Harry. It bothers me quite a lot that this does not _bother_ you. We need… I do not want you tied to me like this. You should absolutely despise me, Harry, you should hate me, you should want me hurt or worse for these promises I’ve had you make me. I have no right to control whether or not you lie, or what you do when you need money, or how you make your money.” He moved his hands from their place and swept them harshly through his hair. It got all messy and I really wanted to neaten it back up again for him. He didn’t look right, all mussed up, especially not in his own office. I cocked my head.

“I don’t, John. I think it’s my right to decide what’s worthy of my hate, too. You’re not. I’ve got better things to despise than you. You’re just, I don’t know what. You’re something. Not hateable, I guess, and don’t you dare say that isn’t a word, scumbag, because it so is.” He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, obviously wishing for the patience to deal with me. He could damn well join the club because he’d probably be dealing with me a lot more. I might not particularly like what I feel for him, but when I love someone, I generally go out of my way to show them that by being a little shit.

“I do not think you understand, Harry. I’d like to call in my last favor of you.” I felt a sudden fear. What would he ask me? He’d said he didn’t want me bound to him; would he tell me to go away, to leave him be? That would be… that would hurt.

“What?” I asked, my voice closer to silent than it ever was, a full 180 from how boisterous I’d been when I got here.

“Disregard what I asked you for with all of my other favors.” I stopped, just froze. That was a strange request, totally out of left field. People just didn’t do that.

“Are you sure, John? That’s really… that’s a strange thing to ask for.” He nodded once, resolute.

“If you are to tell me the truth, or ask me for help, I want you to do it because you want to, not because you are forced.” The words, for some reason, made me shiver. It was oddly sweet, sweet in a way I was almost positive only John Marcone could be sweet. It was sweetness that hearkened back to gunmetal and roses, I was pretty sure; sweetness like a knife given with a wedding ring. I couldn’t help but like it.

“Okay. I swear to thee that none of thou previous requests shall never again be acknowledged or upheld by me, by mine very own power.” Weights fled me, shifted, allowed more of my strength to once again focus on the favors that would never be shed with that sort of ease. He relaxed exponentially.  

“Thank you, Harry. Now that we’ve not got that to worry over, would you mind too terribly if I asked you some questions?” I held up a finger, thin and long, to stop him.

“I’ve got something I want to talk about, first.” I said, and by trying as hard as he was to appear unaffected, he looked totally affected. I smirked and decided to let him suffer for a few seconds, for all the annoyance he’d put me through over the years, and stones, I actually heard his foot tapping under the desk for a few seconds, before his hand went under the desk and, presumably, held his leg down. It was pretty hilarious, and I had a hard time not giggling madly during the full minute that I let him stew. Finally, I got to my feet, unfolded myself to my full height, and then bent over the desk to grab his face. I spent an inordinate amount of time smooshing his cheeks together to make him make a fishy face and he spent an equally inordinate amount of time being way too surprised to stop me from doing so, which just made it funnier. Finally, when I realized that actually I had no idea of what to stay, I just smooshed his cheeks a little harder, leaned forward, and kissed him fully, bravely, on the lips. I always was a man of action rather than words.

He just froze up, totally, and I thought maybe it was because of where my hands were, so I just dropped them to my sides, not entirely sure of where to put them. It’s not like I kiss guys every day, okay, and there wasn’t much kissing during that movie, so I’m not exactly the most experienced in the world at this. John still stayed frozen; his eyes open wide and staring into mine. I guessed I was wrong, then, and I was embarrassed as hell and pretty sure that Marcone would kill me for this once he broke free from his shock, so I tried to pull away, ready to run off before he could stop me and call the kiss a product of my continuously developing insanity the next time I saw him. He stopped me, though, his hands shot up and one settled on my arm while the other cupped the back of my head, and he pulled me closer. His eyes closed and mine followed and we had our first kiss over his fucking desk. Once my back started aching from being bent like that for so long I regretted my choice of location, yet I was still unwilling to move because he is as annoyingly good at kissing as he is at everything else.

It wasn’t too wet, and our teeth didn’t clack together, and he didn’t even try to shove his tongue down my throat. Basically he did literally nothing that I have been known to do during my awkward attempts at kissing. He was literally a perfect gentleman, leading without overpowering, politely taking only what I was giving. His tongue teased at the seam of my lips and I might have shuddered, but that sounds really dumb, so actually I was totally stoic.

To be honest, I’d had this irrational hope for a while that he was really bad at stuff like this, but obviously he just has to kill my ego in everything he does. But I’m still better at magic than him, so there. Finally, though, despite how much pleasure my mind was getting out of this particular activity, my body told my mind to go fuck itself and I had to pull away and straighten up. He actually stood up and tried to follow me for a second before he realized that he’d need a good set of platform shoes to do that. My vision felt just the tiniest bit fuzzy and my legs just the tiniest bit unwilling to hold me up. He straightened his suit almost compulsively, as if it’d gotten wrinkled somehow during that. We tried to talk at the same time.

“Well that-“

“Uh, yeah, so, about that-“ I coughed and knew I was blushing again. He cleared his throat.

“Please, do go ahead,” he told me. I shook my head.

“Nah. We were probably going to say like, exactly the same thing,” I told him as I settled back into the chair. He did the same on the other side of the desk.

“Harry, considering _you_ initiated that I don’t think that you were nearly as surprised by it as I was.” I grinned, shaky and only mostly genuine.

“I think you might be underestimating just how shocking my own actions can be to me. I did not intend to do that when I stood up. If it matters any. Uh. Yeah. So. I’ll go now. Sorry.” I tried to stand up and scramble away, but he caught my arm.

“I think not, Harry. Why ever would you want to leave when you just did something so interesting?” I laughed, a wavering, nervous sound in the still office air.

“Because I probably just made an ass of myself with a really awful assumption.” He shook his head.

“No. Whatever assumption you made, it was likely correct. Still, would you perhaps like to explain what brought all that on?” As I had when my promise was still in effect, I spoke quickly and almost thoughtlessly.

“I love you. I shouldn’t, but goddamn it, I do. I can’t help it. I don’t even know why. I thought that because of what you’ve been doing, the promises, and the whisking me away from Arturo’s, and all that stuff at my apartment yesterday, that maybe you loved me, or liked me, or something, too. It was dumb. Sorry.” He pressed his palm to his forehead and shook his head exasperatedly.

“Are you suffering from some sort of delusion that makes it impossible to realize when someone is kissing you back, Mr. Dresden? You have no need to apologize for making a correct assumption.” I stared at him. I was pretty sure that was fancy-talk language for saying that I was right. That was… I hadn’t really considered this option too much. I was sort of figuring that he’d really want to kill me for something like this. I realized suddenly that I’d kissed him not ten minutes after saying that I didn’t just want to throw caution to the wind and go on hunches with him and that made me double over with laughter. He looked almost hurt. “Normally when one attempts to open his or her heart to another person, said other person does the courtesy of not laughing maniacally in response.” I shook my head desperately.

“Not,” I paused to wheeze and cackle, “not laughing at you. Laughing at me!” He raised an eyebrow delicately, with an ease I wish I had.

“I fail to see the joke.” I finally managed to stifle the laughter and shook my head.

“It’s nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Just realized something funny about what I did. Anyway. Anyway. Um. You. Yeah. You were trying to say that you loved me too, right? Or liked me? Maybe?” His hand slid down my arm to curl around my fingers, to hold my hand. It was a strange sensation, and with a shock I realized that I couldn’t recall any previous occasion wherein someone held my hand. It just… people didn’t do it. They’d take my arm, or my wrist, but not my hand. Almost subconsciously, I curled allowed my fingers to curl around his in response. He looked exceedingly pleased.

“Yes, Harry, I am trying to say that I love you. Immensely. For quite some time. You mustn’t look so confused by that, Harry; you are by no means unattractive, and to be perfectly honest with you, you provide some of the best conversations I’ve had in years. You are interesting, funny, and kind to a fault. You are quite possibly the most heroic man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. The more I look back on it, the more I realize that it’d actually be far stranger if I didn’t feel the way I do for you.” I blinked, my eyes certainly wide and probably owlish.

“Oh.” And was there really anything else to say to that? “Thank you?” I tried, and it was his turn to fall into a desperate fit of laughter.

“What in the world am I even saying? What other sort of response could I possibly expect from you?” Had I done something wrong? I say again, it’s not like I do this every day.  

“I really do love you, you know. Bastardry and scumbaggery and all.” He rolled his eyes.

“Thank you as well, Harry.” And then we both shook our heads and we spent a little while laughing with each other. Admittedly, we were both pretty dumb, especially now. Finally, all was quiet, and we just sort of stared at each other for a few seconds, or hands entwined easily, but not quite perfectly. His left ring finger had obviously been broken at some point, and it fit oddly between my own pinkie and ring finger. I think the odd little imperfections made the sensation nicer; I feel like I’d hardly be able to feel something like this, were everything a perfect fit.

“Oh, yeah, you wanted to ask me some stuff, before I made the universe explode, right? Well, ask away.” He smiled with all his teeth, a spiny edged smile that looked purely animal on his face. With that smile, I felt like I was given an insight into parts of him that I’d only guessed at before. I felt privileged for that, and almost wanted to thank him again.

“It was one of the better kisses I’ve had, honey, but I wouldn’t quite say the universe exploded. Although, I must say I’m rather pleased you felt my talents that great. It has been some time since I’ve been able to put them to use; I’d worried that I’d be out of practice.” Bastard. I crossed my arms and glared at him.

“Scumbag. Don’t make me rescind that offer to answer questions.” He looked a touch fascinated.

“You’ll answer honestly?” I shrugged.

“It that’s possible. There’s some stuff that I’m literally not allowed to talk about, but I’ll tell you all I can. At the very least, you deserve to know everything that my nearest and dearest do.” He nodded and seemed to think hard about just what to ask me. The light in his eyes made me consider a child on Christmas morning.

“Who is Thomas Raith?” I smiled, crooked and loose, did my best to relax.

“Thomas is a lot of things, Johnny. That’s a pretty big question. I think you probably mean who is he to me, though. You’re going to have to give me your word that what I say here won’t go anywhere before I tell you that, though.”    

“You, of course, have that much.” Love makes you trust someone, probably more than you should. I feel like it was probably really stupid of me to just assume that he was telling the truth, that he’d keep this secret and all the others, that he really loved me too, but I couldn’t help it. If I feel for somebody, I trust them, better or worse, until they do something to prove me wrong.

“Alright. Beyond me, Thomas, Murphy, and Michael you’ll be the only one who knows this, so seriously, keep it to yourself. It’ll make trouble for the both of us if this gets out. He’s my half-brother,” I said, and for a quick moment, Marcone let me see that he was confused, but then it was gone.

“How is it, then, that you do not have the same… affliction, I suppose, as him?”

“He’s the son of the White King, remember? Lord Raith. I’m not. I’m the son of a stage magician. We just had the same mother. He was born five years before me, and our mom ran away from Lord Raith a little while after. Then she met my dad, and they got married. Lord Raith killed her just a few minutes after I was born, before she could even name me, so my dad did it. That’s why I was named after so many magicians.” He nodded and leaned forward, interest painting his features.

“And so you allowed him into your home out of a sense of familial obligation?”

“It’s more than that. I love Thomas; he’s the only family I’ve got left. I’d give him whatever he needed, and he me. He’s doing his best to keep his monster in check, and to keep a steady job, but being human isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Thomas is one of the strongest people I know, and one of the smartest. He’s just damn good at hiding all of that because the White Court is cutthroat. Lord Raith has had a lot of sons, you know. Thomas is the only one that he never managed to kill.” Marcone actually looked a touch impressed.

“The two of you are wonderful actors; I’ll give you each that. You’ve managed to fool quite a lot of people into believing the two of you are lovers, or that you simply owe one another quite a lot of favors.” I nodded.

“Whole point. Thomas’ side of the family would go after me to hurt him if they knew, and the various supernatural badasses that have a propensity for following me around have pretty much proven that they have no qualms about going after people I love to rile me up. Then there’s the whole issue where the White Council is at war with the Red Court, and the White Court is allied with the Reds when it suits their ends, so me harboring him in my house is an act of treason technically punishable by death for the both of us, so yeah. We try to keep it on the down low as much as possible.”

“Perfectly understandable. I suppose I should apologize, then, for any mistreatment or mistrust I may have shown Mr. Raith, however belated it may be. However, I had always thought that the White Court was very… family oriented.” I winced.

“I think that depends on what you mean. Incest is pretty common, I’ll admit to that, but it’s more of a dominance thing than anything. Lord Raith never did anything to Thomas beyond attempt to kill him, but his sisters… they had it pretty bad, Lara especially. I don’t think Inari will have any issues, though. Still, Thomas loves his sisters more than anything; he’s super protective of them, generally, even if one of them happens to be trying to kill him sometimes.”

“But you and he have never partaken in these… dominance activities?” I stuck my tongue out.

“No way in hell. I love Thomas, yeah, and he is probably one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met, but no. I’m not into that. Also, he’s a slob, and he’s forgetful, and he’s… I don’t know. Thomas is a lot of things, but not… yeah. Oh, and anyway, Arturo was telling the truth, too: Thomas is one of the White Court weirdoes that feeds exclusively on females.” He relaxed again.

“Alright. I suppose I’ll allow him to continue staying with you, then.” I rolled my eyes and thought it was sort of cute that he thought he could do anything about Thomas staying with me even if he wanted to. “Now, your mother was a Wizard?” A fond smile touched my face.

“Yeah, a strong one. She wasn’t exactly, uh… respected, I guess is the best word, though. She did something she called ‘Gray magic’ in place of White or Black magic. I dabble in it too, sometimes, but not as much as her, since I’m not too fond of overzealous wardens separating my head from the rest of me.”

“I’ll assume Gray magic is too close to Black magic for comfort?” I nodded.

“Yeah. She came up with it basically to prove to the Council that the Laws of Magic could be bent and twisted beyond any significant meaning. She was trying to show that someone could still do awful, awful things without breaking a single Law. They feared her, for that, and branded her as a Warlock. She’s why they say I have bad blood, but I don’t really care. My father loved her, and I love my father even now. That is a good enough character statement for me. I mean, I know she did bad things, and stupid things, but she was my mom. She was beautiful, or my dad always said, and vibrant. She was always, always alive, down to the very last. That made her special. That, and all the time she spent in Fairy, but yeah.” I laughed quietly at her memory, or the memory I had built of her based on the things my dad had said about her.

“Fairy?”

“Uh huh. She had tight ties with a lot of high Sidhe, the Leansidhe especially. She was big into mapping the Nevernever, silly as that might sound. I think that’s the only thing I really ever thought badly of her for; the Fay are dangerous, and she’s stuck me with one of the most dangerous of them all for a Godmother, plus I inherited all of her debts.”

“Why would the younger son inherit the debts?”

“Because I’m the Wizard. Thomas doesn’t have a lick of magical talent, so the debts can’t reasonably go to him. I’m the only one capable of paying them off. If neither of us had been born with magic, then the debts would’ve been wiped clean, but hey, I was the lucky lotto winner, magic wise.”

“And your Godmother?”

“Is the Leansidhe, and I owe her literally all of me for something she did for me a long time ago. She’s crazy dangerous, though, like both insane and really powerful. Don’t cross her, if you can avoid it. She’s the entire reason why I don’t go to the Nevernever unless I really, really have to.”

“Would you be willing to tell me what she did for you?” I flinched and tensed a little, but I’d told him I’d tell him all that those closest to me knew. Not all of them knew this story, these stories, but I felt like… I thought he should know about the events that brought me to Chicago.

“It’s a long story, but yeah. You know my dad died with I was six, right?” I paused and watched his nod. “Alright. Well, obviously I went into foster care after that. I got tossed around from home to home a lot, until I turned ten. I’d been manifesting magical talent for maybe a year or two at that point, I’m not totally sure, but ten was when it came in big. I got adopted by a man named Justin DuMorne, a former and well-respected Warden of the White Council. He wasn’t a good guy. He had adopted me, and a few years later a girl named Elaine, who was my first everything, to be his bodyguards. He tried to Enthrall us both. He got her, but not me. I ran off, and he sent this demon after me, one named He Who Walks Behind. That thing nearly killed me, but I got away from it too, barely, and I came across the Leansidhe. She offered me help for myself. I made a deal with her, an agreement for her to give me the power to kill him in exchange for my life. She trained me, in the Nevernever, and when I came back to DuMorne’s house, I burned it the fuck down. He died, but thankfully Elaine got away, barely.” A sort of rage was swirling around behind his eyes, but it was the cold, pinned back sort of rage, a red butterfly behind green glass.

“Are there any other specifics you’d like to give me regarding that?” I shrugged, and then said the part that I figured would piss him off, or confuse him, or make him think I was a freak. This was the part that I never told people. I don’t know why I wanted to tell him.

“I never hated him. I still don’t. He was disgusting, he was awful, he hurt me, a lot, but I don’t hate him. I don’t love him, either. He… he saved me from the orphanage. He always reminded me of that. I don’t know where I’d have ended up if he hadn’t taken me. I mean, DuMorne would hit me, sometimes, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the other places I ended up, and he was my teacher. He’s the one that taught me how bad cheating was, especially with magic. The first real spell I ever learned was Flickum Bicus. I remember everything about the day I learned that spell. He wanted me to light a fire in the hearth, and he’d given me some kind of real spell, one with real words with real meaning, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to disappoint him, though; I never wanted to do that. So I cheated and used my little Bic lighter with a little stage trick my dad had taught me to light it. Obviously he knew right away, and said that doing stuff like that wouldn’t get me anywhere, that it was cheating. So I tried again, except this time I said Flickum Bicus, from flick your Bic, so that I’d always remember not to cheat. He was so _proud_ of me, John. That was the day he gave me a baseball mitt. That was the first real present I ever got from anyone. I loved him, then. I even loved him when he used a pitching machine to teach me shielding because even though it hurt like hell when they hit me, and even though I broke more than one bone in that process, I was always so sure he was doing it because he loved me too, and wanted me to be okay.”

“I think the worst day of my life was the day I found out that everything he was doing was to keep me and Elaine separate from other kids, other people, everyone but him. It was to isolate us and make us easy prey. To train us up to do whatever he said and protect him and do his dirty work. I thought I hated him that day, the day he sent He Who Walks Behind to bring me back or kill me trying, but I don’t think I ever did.” John almost looked like he’d stopped breathing, and then I realized, oh, my eyes were wet. He stood up, his chair scraping noisily over the floor, and then came around the desk and held me.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, “it’s alright. It’s nothing for you to feel so ashamed over. It’s only human. God, Harry, you’re so human,” he said, a reverence to the words, as if me being human was the holiest thought he’d ever had. “It always surprises me to see you fragile,” he told me quietly. “It’s not a bad surprise, either, merely a particularly shocking one. It flatters me to think that you’re allowing me to see this part of you.” The words themselves weren’t particularly soothing, but the way he said them, gentle and whooshing, windy little words that brushed at my ears before I heard them, was calming. My tears stopped quickly, and then there was no evidence of them. I don’t cry often. I don’t like it for how weak it makes me feel. Either way, for some reason I liked the idea that John had seen me vulnerable, and nothing had happened. I was still fine. He had even comforted me. I couldn’t expect that of many people. The trust strengthened.

“Thank you,” I said. “Anyway, after everything with DuMorne, I got charged with breaking the First Law, killing with magic. I was going to be executed, but a man named Ebenezer McCoy spoke up on my behalf and became my Master. I was still under the Doom of Damocles, though, which is like probation, if probation meant that you got murdered the second you put a toe out of line. Still, Ebenezer taught me everything I believe now, or at least the majority of it. He’s the only man I’ve ever called ‘Sir’, actually. I admire him a lot, and he looked after me for two years on his farm until I moved here, to Chicago. I’ve been here ever since, and I got the Doom taken off of me a little while after the Sells case. I’m pretty sure you know the rest of the story, though, or at least all of the important parts.” Something seemed to upset him, just then, but I couldn’t imagine what.

“Yes. All of your ‘experimenting’, correct?” I bit my lip, just then, and wriggled around.

“About that. I was lying through my teeth. You were kind of scary pissed off when you came to my office that day; I figured saying that actually, yeah, I gave one of my virginities to Guffie in a porno wouldn’t help the situation much. I’ve slept with a grand total of three people in my life whole thirty-two years, and two out of three were female. First was Elaine, and second was Susan, which you already know, and then Guffie, which you now also know.” He gritted his teeth and the red butterfly started cracking the glass. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me a little, as if that would actually do anything. “Um, sorry? I don’t know why I’m apologizing for that, but hey, there you go.”

“Do you truly have such little regard for your own damned body?” Any normal human being would be yelling, but not John. His voice was cold enough that he could’ve injected ice in every letter of every word of every sentence before he sent them out to meet me.

“There’s not really a correct answer for that, is there? I mean, it’s not like I hate myself or something. I did what I needed to do, and I did it with someone I trust. Guffie’s a good guy; we’re friends. I’d have rather done it with him than someone I didn’t know at all. My body is a tool. I use it for what I need.” He stood up straight and for the first time he was taller than me. It’s really unnerving, to look up into his face. It’s somehow a lot scarier from down below, at least when he looks like this, a man on a mission.

“Am I better?” The question was confusingly childish, as if he were in a popularity contest with Jake or something, as if I’d suddenly kick him away and run off with my friend. I really did try not to laugh, I promise. Not to say it worked or anything, but I tried, and that counts for something, right? Of course it does.

“John. Jake is my friend. I’m not going to suddenly decide that actually, wait a minute, I don’t love you, I love him because he’s got a big porn star dick. That’s dumb, John. Never pegged you as the insecure type. I love you. That’s not my favorite fact in the world, probably never will be, but it’s damn sure the truth.” And Hell’s Bells, if he didn’t believe me this time, I might actually have to kill him. I watched his face and saw it when he relaxed, saw it when a calm, self-assured smugness made its appearance on his features.

“I assure you, sweetheart, I have absolutely nothing to be insecure about.” Oh. _Oh._ Well then. That was. It was exactly what it sounded like, I was pretty sure. That was. Uh. Nice. I think. I’m not sure. It was something alright, and it made me feel relatively strongly in response. So. I like ‘em cocky. I guess. Stones. I am in way over my head, aren’t I? I assumed I was meant to give a vocal response to that, so I settled on a really well thought out gargling noise. I’m sure he appreciated my boundless wit more than anything else about me, especially at that exact moment. “I’ll take that as an agreement,” he told me, bending a little to run his thumb over my lips. His pupils were dilated, I noted, so much so that there was just a thin ring of green surrounding the black. I wasn’t sure just how much better I was faring, but hoped it wasn’t noticeable since my eyes are so dark. I watched him and saw the exact moment when John gathered all of his fraying control and pulled it back in around him, recomposed himself into the man I usually saw. We’d both been vulnerable with one another today. It was time to go back to business, I supposed. He still seemed somewhat unwilling to stop touching me, though. A sentence fell out of my mouth without my consent.

“Dinner? Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? It isn’t like I can afford something really fancy, but… yeah. A date would be nice. I guess. If you want to, I mean. You don’t have to clear out your whole schedule for me or anything.” He took a deep breath and tied the tattered threads of his control around one another until his armor was as perfect as always. I could see it all happening behind his eyes as his pupils shrunk back to their normal size and the pale flush I hadn’t even noticed before fled his face.

“I’ll meet you at your apartment at seven,” he told me.

“Seven,” I parroted back, and stood up. I left his office and to his secretary, I said, “Seven. Do I have clean pants? I know I don’t have quarters for the Laundromat.” That particular totally baffled look she picked up didn’t suit her nearly as well as the smile from before.

* * *

 

As promised, I called Thomas on the little payphone and listened to him yell at me for, like, a while. Apparently it was somehow a _bad_ idea to go out to dinner with the notorious mob boss. I had no idea where he was getting a silly idea like that, because I thought it was a pretty great plan. No one actually cares what I think, though, no matter what they say.

He even thought I was being dumb when I told him that I’d finally come to terms with the fact that John loved me (he also spared a few minutes on a lecture explaining all forty-seven reasons why I shouldn’t call him by his first name, most of which involved some variation on the facts of him being a mobster and Murphy coming to kill us all) and that I returned the sentiment. According to him I should just go date a nice cop or something if I wanted to date a guy that badly. I said that I really did have feelings for him. He said to make sure I didn’t get kidnapped again. I said I was coming back to the apartment first. He said to bring Burger King and then suggested that we’d discuss it more when I got there, and then said something that I assumed meant he’d feel a lot better about all of this both if he got to dress me and if he got to have a nice chat with John when he arrived to pick me up. I agreed to all of those conditions gracefully, meaning I only pouted about Thomas potentially murdering Johnny a little bit, and all was right between Thomas and me once more. It’s always nice to have a relationship that’s that easy. I was sure I’d appreciate it even more now that this whatever this is with Johnny has gotten itself underway.      


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, last chapter everybody! Sorry that this is probably not very good, and the ending is likely incredibly rushed, but I sort of wanted to get this fic done with. I didn't really plan it as well as I usually do in the beginning, so it ended up sort of frazzled and not at all my best work. Sorry again everybody, but here you are anyway!

                Burger King is totally delicious, and there are many sins that I can forgive when I have it in front of me. The outfit Thomas had for me when I got back at about six forty-five (I might’ve stalled some on my way home. Maybe. And yes, it is a good idea to eat Burger King fifteen minutes before you go out for dinner, I’m sure of it) was not one of those sins. It wasn’t particularly bad, really; as a matter of fact it was nothing more than an actual button down in my size and a pair of black slacks with legs long enough to fit me. The bad thing, though, was the fact that all of this stuff looked nice and would therefore be absolutely ridiculous on me. I told Thomas so and he complained about flawed logic. He then proceeded to tackle me (and make me drop my Whopper on the floor, where Mouse promptly took care of it), and started stripping me. It was at this point that I received a knock on my door. Thomas ordered Mouse to sit on me in his place whilst he answered it, and Johnny stepped inside. He seemed confused by what he saw. I sighed.

                “Get used to it, John. This is downright normal compared to any other day.” He nodded slowly and shut the door behind him.

                “Mouse, take him to the bathroom,” Thomas commanded, and pointed at Marcone. The dog, who is supposed to be my pet, made a huffing noise and stood before he closed his jaws around the loose sleeve of John’s soft looking red sweater and tugged him away. Johnny blinked a couple of times.

                “I promise I do not need to see where that is,” he said, “The reservations are already made, we need to go,” he tried, but then he got pulled into my bedroom and then, presumably, my bathroom. Thomas finished stripping me and finally wrangled me into the clothing he’d prepared.       

                “Where’d you get this stuff anyway?” I asked him, staring down at my poor torso in an even poorer white shirt that would most certainly not be white for very long.

                “I bought this stuff for you when I moved here and hid it all in my clothes so it wouldn’t spontaneously combust before you needed it.” That was almost annoyingly understandable, if I’m being honest. I sighed and finally nodded, because hell, the clothes were nice, and they at least sort of matched the quality of what John had on.

                “Fine,” I told him as I stood and stretched, and he released John from my bathroom, which was greatly appreciated by everyone involved in this particular clusterfuck. I really wished that I could have, I don’t know, an easy first date. It’d be really cool. You know, maybe. Just maybe, though. Can’t have anything being too easy, that might give me a heart attack. Still, when John saw me he took my arm like the gentleman the papers call him and I blushed like the little girl no one but Murphy calls me. Thomas crossed his arms.

                “Have him back by ten or I’ll find you and kill you.” He said it with the nicest little smile, the one he used when he wanted someone to be on his side, the foolish one that he used to make people think he was harmless and helpless. It looked strange when it was contrasted with death threats.

                “Of course, Mr. Raith.” And then he ushered me out like the house was on fire, and actually opened the passenger door of his car for me, which would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t annoying as all hell. I reclined in the soft leather and pulled the seatbelt down across my chest as he settled in his own seat and started the thing up. It grumbled a few times, protesting at my presence, but it did start up and we were on our way.

                “John. I am not some twenty year old woman with a cup size higher than her IQ for you to woo. I don’t need you to treat me like one.” He barked out a laugh and shook his head.

                “I realize this. I was merely attempting to be polite, you understand. I had thought you appreciated politeness.” I shrugged.

                “Not when it’s demeaning. Stars and Stones, I don’t know many women that actually expect their date to open their car door for them anymore. Just treat me like you always do.” He let a dashing smile flit across his face, and then he fluttered his eyes at me. I hid snorting laughs under my breath.

                “Harry, if I were treating you as you seem to think I am, I’m afraid I’d be far more flamboyant about it. Something along the lines of insisting upon carrying you over thresholds and putting my jacket on top of puddles so that your feet didn’t get wet. Opening a car door is something I do for business associates; I think I should be allowed to do it for my date as well, if I so desire. Also, I believe you have a particular fondness for chivalry yourself where women are involved, most especially Ms. Murphy.” I cackled and leaned against the window. The electronic mechanism that would make it go up and down produced a funny smell, but John didn’t seem to notice, so I didn’t draw attention to it.

                “To be honest, yeah, and when I do it people call me a misogynistic pig. You just get called a gentleman, bastard. Of course, I know Murphy hates it, so with her it’s more to piss her off than anything. She’s cute when she’s mad.” He smirked, but there was a bit of a sad edge to it.

                “I assume hearing you say that is something that makes her mad?” I nodded.

                “Constantly. I can’t count the number of times she’s beaten me up for calling her cute. Oh, she never says it’s for that, obviously, but whenever she seems extra violent during our sparring matches I can usually recall at least one occasion within the past three days wherein I said or did something that annoyed her in that particular way. Still, you’re pretty adorable when I piss you off too, mostly because you try really hard to pretend I’m not pissing you off.” The sad edge left his smirk, and I relaxed myself again, let everything go all loose and easy. The street lights flew by and blurred together like fairy lights.

                “I never imagined that your reasoning for bothering people as you do was so that you could see if you found them cute upon them becoming bothered.” I wriggled in the seat a little because the leather was sticking to me through my clothes. The heater in his car worked too damned well.

                “Well, I sure as hell don’t do it just because I’m stupid. I mean, yeah, that plays a part, but just a little one. What were we talking about before? Oh, yeah, if you get anymore stereotypical male on me you’ll tell me we’re going dancing.” He gave me a weird look. “No. Come on. We’re not. Are we? Hell’s Bells, I haven’t danced in years.” His laugh was loud and boisterous, free and big enough to fill up the car. I liked the way it sounded on him, then shook my head because gawking over him was the exact opposite of what I wanted to do at that particular moment on that particular day.

                “You know how to dance? Better than I’d thought; I assumed I’d have to teach you. I’m honestly a bit disappointed.” I rolled my eyes.

                “Wizard, Johnny. Trained in the majority of the classical arts, ballroom dance included. I can paint a moderately not crooked picture, sculpt a really shitty Athena, and play a moderately difficult song on both the violin and the guitar. It was all one giant exercise in patience and delicacy.” He nodded.

                “I’d heard you were rather musically inclined, but I suppose it’s nice to know that it’s true. Still, dancing is quite amusing, or so I’ve always thought. Be glad I decided on the classical sort rather than taking you to a club.” Yeah, a club and I would not mix very well. He probably knew that.

                “Sorry, John, but I really can’t imagine you doing the kinds of dances I’ve seen people in clubs do. That seems more like a, I don’t know, Hendricks thing. He’s pretty young, isn’t he?” I saw the tiger in his eyes when he next smiled.

                “I really must show you what I can do in a club some time, honey, but I think that’d be better served on a later date. We’re a bit overdressed currently, you understand, and I’d much prefer to dress you myself if we went out to a place like that.” Of course he would. Christ, if John ever got to start dressing me, I’d really have to just hang a sign around my neck that marked me as his. I mournfully recalled all the rumors I’d shot down shortly after our first meeting and wondered just how long it would be before the new ones got around. I gave it five minutes as we pulled up to a relatively nondescript building and climbed out.

                He took my arm again and tipped the guy at the door when we walked into the thing which I assumed was a restaurant from the sweet smells emanating from the place. When we got inside, I was struck by how casual everything seemed even though there was a guy standing in the corner poised to take people’s coats. I mean, no, no one was running around in a pair of jeans, but no one was all decked out in their Sunday best either. Everyone looked about like how John and I did, easygoing couples out for a night on the town. A live orchestra played on top of a small raised stage, and a big dance floor surrounded it. Couples drifted around it with graceful ease, pretty women getting spun and twirled, and I felt painfully out of place. John squeezed my arm as the waiter who called us things like, “sir”, and “gentlemen”, led us to a relatively secluded table and gave us menus with a million dishes that I couldn’t pronounce the names of, much less describe.  

                “I say I get to pick where we go next, John. This is too much.” He shook his head.

                “You deserve the best I can get for you; this is one of the best places I know, and we’re far less likely to be spotted here and appear in tomorrow’s paper, as I don’t own this place.” I raised my eyebrows as if to say he was slacking, and his shoulders shifted in the vaguest shrug I’ve ever seen. “I’ve tried, of course, but the current owner seems quite unwilling to part with it.” I bent my head down and giggled into my arms. When the waiter came back I asked him for a Coke, and, much to my shock, they had some. John got wine and then recommended some kind of maybe-Italian dish for me, and I, assuming he knew what the hell it actually was, ordered it. He beamed, looking pleased as punch, and the waiter left. A few minutes of mundane, quiet conversation went by before he stood up and held a hand out to me.

                It was at that moment that I realized that I was on a date-date with John Marcone, and, figuring it couldn’t possibly get more surreal than that, took his hand and let him lead me out on the dance floor just as a new song, a relatively lively waltz, started up.

* * *

 

                His left hand settled on my hip, my right on his shoulder, and we clasped our free hands together, and Christ, was I really letting him lead? I was nearly a foot taller! I should so be the lead! But he didn’t seem to think so because he started familiar steps, steps I felt I should’ve been taking, and I was forced to go along with it or fall over. I was pretty sure people were staring at us, but John just shook his head at me and pulled me into a tight spin that resulted in our upper bodies pressing together in really unique ways.

                “Ignore them, and have fun! This is an exciting dance,” he told me, then shifted our hips for emphasis. I barked a laugh and finally relaxed, deciding that hey, it would probably be easier for us all in the long run if I just let him do what he wanted. My feet made familiar steps easily, thoughtlessly, and I’m pretty sure I only stepped on his toes once while we twirled and spun around the floor, my hair catching in my mouth and his green eyes bright and laughing. It was oddly easy to forget the eyes, some judgmental, some confused, some amused, that had fixed themselves on us, and as cliché as it sounds, the whole world, but for him and me there on that bright floor, melted away. The lights flickered a little as my happiness went unchecked, but I didn’t care enough to rein it in. The song slowly trickled down to a stop and when he dipped me he managed to startle a gasp out of me.

                A new song was starting, this one some kind of tango, I was pretty sure, and we were getting into position to dance again, but someone tapped on John’s shoulder. He was a bigger guy, dressed in a polo, and he had dark eyes.

                “May I cut in?” he asked, and I gaped. What the hell? Why in the world would someone else want to dance with me? That was weird. Maybe he was talking to me and wanted to dance with John. Still weird, but probably slightly more understandable. John shook his head.

                “I’m afraid his company is mine for the evening; you’ll certainly find some other willing partner somewhere around.” He rolled his eyes.

                “My date left; you’re paying him anyway, aren’t you? I’ll reimburse you, but my ex is here, and I want to piss her off.” John’s fingers tensed around my arms, and I tried to relax him, but that was kind of difficult when he was getting all annoyed at some guy for apparently mistaking me for an escort.

                “Why in the world would you assume that I’m paying this man? Please, I simply came here for a nice evening with my boyfriend. I would greatly appreciate it if you let us be.” And so John steamrolled another poor fuck who didn’t know any better. Also, being called his boyfriend was one of the oddest things that had ever happened to me, but quite possibly one of the most awesome too.

                “He’s a porn star, right? I saw him online about a week ago. Figured he was into some other businesses too.” I flinched. I hadn’t ever considered that random people, people I didn’t know, would see the damned thing. I hadn’t considered the stigma, undeserved or not, that I’d inevitably get. John let go of me and I thought for a second that maybe he’d found regret for his decision, maybe he’d decided he could do better than me, maybe he’d let me go with that guy, whoever he was, but then Hurricane John dropped down on a new target.

                “I believe we are suffering from a few cases of mistaken identity. This man is perfectly reputable, and here because we care deeply for one another, and generally people who care deeply for one another desire to spend time together. I would like to go through an enjoyable evening with the one I love, and I would like to do so without your interruption, as you are being quite rude. I also think it’d serve you well to consider just who you’re being rude to.” The man looked shocked for a second, but then he puffed out his chest and decided to out alpha male John. I wondered if I should send roses or daisies to his funeral.

                “And who are you to talk to me like that?” John smiled and there was something instinctually pleased in his eyes.

                “Me? I’m John Marcone.” And then the poor guy ran off with his tail between his legs. I felt a little bad for him as John swept me back up into his grip, and I almost felt like I should be wearing a pretty blue ball gown. It’d really help with all these Cinderella and Prince Charming vibes I was getting tonight. I got distracted from all that pretty quickly, though, because Johnny can tango. Yowza doesn’t even begin to cover it. The man moves like a fucking snake.

* * *

 

                We danced like idiots until I saw our food get brought to our table, at which point he led me back by my hand and pulled my chair out for me. Oh, John Marcone, how big of a bastard art thou? He apparently saw my annoyance in my face because he just shook his head and dared me to say anything about it. I always take dares, by the way.

                “Could you be a bigger dick?” I asked him after I shoved some of the impossible to pronounce possibly Italian main course into my mouth. It was absolutely delicious, by the way; if nothing else, John has damn good taste in food.

                “Quite probably, although I don’t think you’d appreciate it.” I grinned and considered the man on the dance floor again.

                “I always appreciate talents similar to my own. Anyway, why’d you get so pissed at that guy? He recognized me, and I don’t really think that making a stupid assumption based on someone appearing in a porno means that the person who made the assumption deserves to get run over like that. You scared him half to death.”

                “He disrespected you.”

                “A lot of people do.”

                “Not around me they don’t. You did something you felt you had to do, and I will deal with it and its consequences accordingly, the same way that you will, but I will not stand for you being judged over it.” I, for once, let the issue drop and stuffed more food in my face. He might’ve made a few stray comments about bribing me with food, and possibly getting me to gain some weight. I allowed him the privilege of seeing a very special finger on my left hand and continued to eat with my right. I had a revelation, then; we were a weird couple. We were both bottomless wells of fucked up. All logic dictated that we’d make an explosion big enough to take out half the world if we mixed too much. It didn’t seem to matter. We worked. _This_ worked. I’d had more fun tonight than I’d ever had on a date before, cliché stereotypical first date though it was.

                I reached out and grabbed onto his hand, and I held it all through the desert he ordered for us to share, some giant chocolate monstrosity that he might’ve eaten three bites of before I devoured the remainder of it. It was good, okay? If he wanted more he should’ve ordered two. He did at least seem to find it amusing, though, or found licking the chocolate dredges off of my cheek entertaining. One or the other. Maybe both. I just know we left pretty quickly after that, and I might’ve had my hand in his back pocket. I probably didn’t, though, because I certainly have more class than that, what are you talking about?

* * *

 

                When we got into his car, it was maybe nine o’clock, and he seemed to be planning on driving me back to my apartment. I dropped a hand on his thigh and he gave me a weird look. I grinned. And then I let my fingers, freakishly long as they are, stretch down to tease at the inseam of his pants. He jerked and the car, which he’d only just gotten turned on, jolted forward and bumped over that little thing they have at the front of parking spaces. I laughed. He let out a deep sigh.

                “Somehow or another, Harry Dresden, you are going to be the death of me.” I gave him a laugh and a grin and kept up my touch as he attempted to back the car back into the proper place. “Do you truly have to do this at a time and place that could get us both killed?” I nodded.

                “Well, Thomas wants me home, and I want you. This seems like the best option to me. I’ll stop for a little while, but pull over somewhere deserted, yeah?” He let out a hissing breath through his teeth.

                “I will not be a casual lay for you, Harry. If we do this, you are promising me something big. You are promising that you’re willing to try this with me. I don’t love often and I don’t love well, I will admit to that. I need you to understand that if you become involved with me, you are involved with _me._ ” I smiled and licked my lips.

                “Johnny, do you think I see this as casual? We couldn’t do casual if we tried, in anything. I want something from you, and it isn’t just sex. I could get that from a lot of places. I want all those annoying little emotions that go along with the act, and I want you, along with all of your crazy. And people aren’t exactly beating down my door, John. I don’t think you’ll have much to worry about in the way of competition. Besides, I could say the same stuff to you; if you want to go for me, no more busty blondes.” His pupils were dilating and when he pulled out of the parking lot, he did it at dangerous speeds.

                He drove fast to some deserted place, my hand on his knee slowly and cyclically making its way up and down his thigh. He stopped the car and turned off the headlights and got out, then he came around to my door and opened it. After that, I somehow ended up sprawled out in the backseat of John’s car with a really eager John on top of me. I can’t say I was particularly displeased.

                “No more fucking Guffie. There won’t be anything more than friendship between you and Ms. Murphy. If Kincaid so much as looks at you funny I will fucking kill him. Just me, Harry, are you sure about this?” he bit out through clenched teeth, his fingers pulled at the shirt before he finally gave up and just sort of tore it. Thomas was going to kill me, I realized belatedly, but at that particular moment I was way too busy to care.

                “Just you, John,” I told him, and a snarl tore itself from somewhere deep in his throat. Even he looked shocked by it. A cool breeze blew in from the open door behind him and it cut through my pants to freeze my legs, but I didn’t exactly have the capacity to care. His thumbs brushed and twisted my nipples and his mouth was on my neck, sucking a deep, dark mark, and should I really have expected anything less of him? I wriggled underneath him, and his knees tightened until he had my hips pinned. I could feel how hard he was, and the fact that that was for me, just me, no random people on the internet or in their homes in front of a TV. Me. That made me press my own hips into his, hard, and he shuddered. The moonlight overhead reflected funnily in his eyes, and his suddenly clumsy fingers worked their way down to my pants and got them loose and away. His teeth continued to worry a place into my skin, and, strangely enough, my head tilted to one side to accommodate him. That seemed to make him happy, because he grabbed my dick and squeezed for it, just once, then dropped it again. He lifted his head and his lips were red. I surged up to pull him into a kiss and, for once in his bastard life, he did what I wanted.

                We just sat in the lay in the backseat of his car for a while, kissing and groping at each other like teenagers, and maybe I hadn’t experimented when I was younger, but I was pretty sure that this was just as good. I yanked at his sweater and for once I was oddly bothered that he wasn’t in a button down, because that would’ve been easier to get off, as he’d proven with me. Asshole can’t ever be convenient about anything, can he? He lives to make my life more difficult. He lives to make me want things I shouldn’t, to make me fall in love when falling in love is the worst idea in the world. He relishes in making me acknowledge things like this. He wrenched his lips from mine and panted, green eyes full of lusty haze, and then he jerked the sweater off and away. I distantly heard it land somewhere in the grass behind him. His nails, squared off and neatly blunted, raked down my chest, paid special attention to my nipples, pebbled up from the cold, and the plane of my stomach that connected with my groin. I twitched, planning on spreading my legs out a little more for him, but I got stopped by the front seat.

                His hand twisted around my cock, fingers making a loose ring around the head, and I jerked up into his loose grasp as he pulled himself free from his pants. He presented his dick to me as if I were supposed to fall to my knees in awe of its mighty manly glory. I giggled at the thought and his hand tightened almost to the point of pain. The friction of his pants against my thighs was coming close to making me insane. Bastard didn’t even seem to care. I decided that it’d be really fun to piss him off just then, don’t ask me why, because it seems like a dumb idea looking back on it.

                “Jake was bigger,” I said, trying to keep my tone thoughtless, doing my best to sound serious even though I was pretty sure I was lying. The hand he had around me spasmed and made me writhe, much as I hate to admit it, sent a noisy groan stuttering from my throat. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a silent snarl.

                “Liar,” he hissed at me, and took my hand, wrapped it around him. I laughed and let my fingers drift feather touches over the soft, stretched skin. His eyes flashed shut for a second and he fell forwards to close his teeth around the side of my neck that had thus far remained free of tooth marks. I guessed I shouldn’t have expected it to remain that way, with whatever kind of mood he was in. My thumb pressed into the slit at the head of his dick and his jaw clenched. I yelled. He pulled away with the slightest traces of blood on his lips and we both laughed even though it stung me.

                “Maybe I am. I can’t really remember, to be honest. This is way better,” I said, and it was, for its realness, for the simple fact that this was truth, that this was a real relationship and what we were doing involved real feelings, real love. Jake was a good guy, and he was good at what he did, but Hell’s Bells, emotions made all the difference, emotions made all of this so much better, endlessly more amazing, more beautiful. Besides, I couldn’t piss Jake off for real in a situation like this; I had only been able to pretend. “Reality is so much more amazing than fiction.” I tensed my fingers and jerked him the way he seemed to want for a few seconds, and he gasped, batted my hand away.

                “I must agree with that,” he said, and then he took both of us into one of his hands, thrust up against me. It felt wildly wonderful, the intimate touch, the feeling of being that close to another person. Magic, normal magic, vanilla magic, swirled around us as pieces of our auras were exchanged, as emotions passed from owner to owner. I hadn’t been able to feel sex like this for a long time, not since Susan, and I relished in it, relished in how it washed over me. I hardly noticed it when my legs got moved to drape over his shoulders, when a finger slid inside me, not until he hit the place inside me that had me gasping. He licked his lips. “Do you know how much it pissed me off to see him doing this to you?” he asked me, adding a harsh jab of his finger, a sharp twist of his hand, to accompany the gesture. I might’ve whimpered, but if I did, I’m not admitting to it.

                “I can hazard a guess and say a lot,” I murmured, and he nodded.

                “More than damn near anything. He didn’t deserve it, certainly didn’t deserve to treat you with such disregard. You deserve to be worshipped by anyone capable of getting you like this.” I moaned as another finger made its way inside me.

                “That so? All that ‘disregard’ was scripted, you know.”

                “Doesn’t matter,” he replied, and scissored his fingers wide. I fell limp and my head lolled to one side. “Still isn’t what you deserve.”

                “You,” I began, before I had to stop and intake a long breath because of some nearly mythical flick of both his wrists, “You have a lot of ideas about what I deserve.”

                “You deserve the world,” he told me, and then there was a third finger. He was being quicker than he probably would’ve been in a normal situation. The green glow of the car’s clock told me that it was about nine thirty. Thomas would be pissed, since there was no way I was getting home within a half hour. I couldn’t bring myself to care. “I’ll give you as much of it as I can.”

                “Just you is good enough for me, you and my friends. I’d be happy with just that.”

                “I want you ecstatic, not just happy. I want you fucking thrilled to your bones.” He maneuvered me skillfully, easily, and then he was inside me and my world started spinning upside down and backwards. Goddamn. Neither of us lasted very long, although I’d hold the fact that Johnny only managed three thrusts into me before he was coming over his head for the rest of eternity. Although, he has admittedly proven to me on multiple occasions since then that he is perfectly capable of lasting a lot longer than that. Like, insanely long. I don’t ever bring those times up, though, because his ego is big enough. He needs something to bring him down to earth sometimes. Anyway, even though he wasn’t able to do much after he got in me I can’t say he wasn’t considerate, because he did make me come too, afterwards, with a few expert twists of his hand and his wrist.

                Getting dressed on the side of the road in the dark and with a torn shirt is a pain in the ass, but I managed it. My shirt gaped open from my neck to the middle of my chest, though, and anyone in their right mind would see what I’d just been doing. What _we’d_ just been doing. Thomas was going to _kill_ us, I thought again, and maybe I should’ve thought through all this a little better before I did it. But thinking isn’t nearly as fun as doing, honestly, and I wasn’t going to regret that. We semi held hands the whole way back to my apartment and I mentally prepared myself for the tirade Thomas would go on when we got to my place.

* * *

 

                We arrived at ten fifteen and Thomas was waiting outside like a psychopath. I was pretty sure I saw the shine of my sawed off leaning against the doorway behind him. His arms were crossed over his chest and I saw flashes of mercury in his storm cloud eyes. He stared at me incredulously when we got to the front door.

                “Really? This is really the life choice you’re going to make, Harry? You show up fifteen minutes late wearing a torn shirt and smelling like desperate sex, looking like everything is all fucking hunky dory. Do you know how worried I was? And you, fucking Marcone, what the hell is wrong with you? He is not yours to screw in the backseat of a car like a craven goddamned whore!” I ran a hand through my hair.

                “I’m the one that initiated it, Thomas, don’t yell at him. Also, how do you know where we had sex?” Thomas rolled his eyes.

                “Because he has a live porno playing in his brain and he’s projecting it at me. Also, he apparently imagined corset ripping before that started instead of shirt ripping.” John looked really guilty. “There we go, he’s stopped it now. Nice control, by the way, I’ll give you that much. Still. I don’t fucking like this.” I nodded.

                “I know. It’s not my favorite thing in the world either. It’s scary and it’s dangerous and it’s probably stupid, but damn if I’m not happy about it. This is… I like this, Thomas. I love him. He’s… I don’t even know. This is dumb and moronic and a bunch of other synonyms for stupid but I’m happy, I am over the moon, I want to try this.” Thomas tensed his fingers and his jaw, and then he took my arm and pulled me behind him, stepped up to John and stared into his eyes.

                “I don’t trust you. I think this is idiotic, and I think Harry is going to get hurt, whether it’s because you die before him or because you do something cruel to him. I think you’re insane, and I think there’s some kind of immoral possessive thing inside you that’s too similar to my monster for comfort, and I think it wants Harry. I think this is one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard. Still. I love Harry, more than I love pretty much anyone, and he’s telling the truth. Some part of you makes him happy. I’ll let this go on, for now, but if you ever, ever hurt him, if you ever make him cry, I swear you’ll have more than me and him to worry about. I know people, Johnny, people that make your kind seem like babies in the woods. I can make a lot of awful things happen to you, and the best part is, I can make you love it.” He raised his chin and I expected some yelling, I expected a fight.

                “I’m glad to hear it. It’s nice to know that someone in your family has an ounce of sense, Harry. I’ll call you tomorrow; perhaps we can spend the day together.” He rushed forward to peck my lips before he ran off, and I’m sure he heard Thomas yelling in surprise about him knowing what our relationship was. I know I’ve said this before, and I’ll probably say it again, but Hell’s Bells, welcome to my life.

* * *

 

                I got a letter about a month later that said both of my videos had been totally eradicated from the face of the earth. I asked Johnny if any intimidation had been a factor in that, and his innocent look told me that yeah, there had been. I called Arturo and apologized profusely on both of our behalves, but he just waxed poetic about love, and gave the phone to Jake, who told me to call him if I needed him, if John ever did anything stupid. I was pretty sure he and Thomas had gone to the same threat classes. I wondered sometimes if maybe I should ask them to escort me to one of those classes; I could use some intimidation skills. Still, John could probably teach me if I asked him, or maybe Hendricks, but if that happened I had this intense fear that I’d start talking about making my various enemies put on a pair of cement shoes and sleep with the fishes. Yes, I am making crappy mob jokes now. Shut up. John thinks they’re funny. Sometimes. Except when I make Godfather references while we’re in bed together. Ahem. Cough cough hack wheeze.

                Anyway, I guess the important thing is that this particular psychosis is one that works, and that’s all that matters. We work, and we kill monsters together, and we’re happy, and we love each other, and nothing has exploded because of that as yet. I count that as a victory on my behalf, and from the way he’s kissing my neck while I write this (no, I did not learn penmanship from a kindergartener, John, I learned to write with a quill pen and it’s very different from an ink pen, thank you very much) I think he does too. 


End file.
